Onion Peals

Layer upon layer, it has
Been unfolding, peeling off
Easily from first contact to
Current, burning the eyes
With its pungent aroma,
Cloying, and strong, leaving
The eyes watery and runny

Bulbous and purplish, shiny
On the outside, soft white
Pulp on the inside, reeking
Of onion sap, soon to be cut
And pasted to the frying pan
Where there’s instant sizzle
The hot oil chars the veggie

Clear skies abound as the peels
Come of, conundrum resolved, as
Layer after layer is shorn, and
Floated away into the horizon
Where it floats in the ethereal
Balmy, windy swept ridges away
Not to be redone, allure or no

Heading to the core, the crux
The motherlode, the hot lava
Rock that is slowly melting
As the protective layers are
Peeled off and chopped into the
Frying pan, or oven char-grilled
Until a crispy golden brown, yes

The day shall come when the inner
Pulp, will be exposed and the loud
Palpitations, panting and puffing
Will signal the end of the long
Layered structure that bravely
Stood against the foreboding
Which was actually unfounded

French Cart

A cut above the best, cut to
Fit only the finest, not of
Chamois leather, or frilly
Cotton, filling and fiery
Cutting large swathes of
The hilly country, across
The yawning canyons and to
The golden horizon yonder

Not of veal, or venison
Or the juicy steaks of sirloin
And ramp, neither T-bones nor
Top side, the cut surpasses all
Known to folklore, endearing
Even the skeptics, who seek to
Understand the quality and
Finesse of one in a kind adornment

Breaking new grounds and filling
Voids unknown before, they are
Utterly devoid of demurre, but
Shockingly alluding to hitherto
Uncharacteristic chic, from new
Ways adopted and alluded to now
Gradiose in design, subtle in
Accretion, permanently, though

Straddling the great divide
Sashaying in a carefree way
Bold, unfazed and looking
Into the sky, seemingly in
A trance, as the shimmer of
The silky threads shimmy aloft
Like a tight awning that covers
A patch to keep away the elements

From west to east, like the
Equitorial belt, sorrounding the
Verdant valley and crevaces, cut
To fit and fight off any unknown
Unfestooned, heat seeking armament
Locked to the heat signature from
The jet engines afterburn, throwing
Off any caution to the wind, forever

Whispers in the Air

Seemingly floating in the air
Worry-free and unbound
The whispers move in and
Out of our consciousness
Effortlessly, since they
Were never meant to be
Tethered to one soul

Fleeting across the space
Yonder, making inroads
Where before only a yawning
Chasm existed and gaped
Openly, at all and sundry
Unflinching in its glare
Almost as if in despair

Taunting the status quo,
Breathing a new life to
The daily drudgery, that
Seems never ending, yet
The whsipers in the air
Make it bearable and an
Event to look forward to

Scaling newer, better heights
Daily, never backing down
Raw, emotive, fortuitous
No embellishments at all, as
The whispers in the air
Seek to calm the jittery
Bundle of nerves, forever

Turning new pages daily, and
Slowly etching an indelible
Mark on the grey matter, in
Recesses yet unreached, ever
Creating new awareness daily
The whispers in the air
Conquer and consume, bliss!

Listen, Listen, Listen

Svelte, smooth as silk, running
Rustling, sultry as the hot savannah
Afternoon, whispering and cooing
Like a lovelorn dove, perched
On a loft, lofty and carefree
Is the sound of the voice

In all directions at once, nimbly
Permeating the inner reaches of
Consciousness, both awake and not
Enveloping the silence within
Is the sound of the voice

An inner cry, like the halidon
Seeps through the recesses, and
Cracks, filling every inch with
Syrupy smoothness, like honey
Dripping from a golden honeycomb,
A vast honey filled catacomb

Across the plains it wafts
Wisps of hot air, breathed
Into the channels and lifted
Out to the inner reaches, to get
Away and reach out across, to
Touch in a way never before

Reaching a cresecendo, the voice
Crashes into the piqued eardrums
Cavorting and caressing the inner
Ear, mingling with other sounds
Creating a soothing, sorrounding
Feeling, never before experienced

And it goes on to bring new, exciting
Dimensions right across the yawning
Vast plains, dry, hot, and unrelenting
But the divide not any more vast as
The gap is closed, slowly and truly
The void is closed, finally, finally
Reaching the desired end, bliss!