Cockles of the Heart

Pleasurable poetry pleasing any reader’s eye penned words perfectly portrayed colouring canvas with indigo dye..thoughts from within a thinker’s heart and soul, scattered and strewn betwixt one’s self control

Amidst freedom of flow, between one’s knowledge of know-how caressed so charmingly captured here and now.. scenery of circumstance spilled onto a page, description is condensed in an incredible gauge..an author accomplishes beyond the depth of a dream, anxiously, acrimonously, letting off steam..as one’s poised pen prances in dance, printing the parchment with rich romance

Yearns from youthfulness, childhood reveries, memorable moments of miseries.. anything is absolute beneath mental threads inside a mind, facts or fictional, bodhi so blind.. shreds of sensational rhyming verse, shards from imaginable eventide terse.. unleashed, unwrapped written to read, with titles of titillation and glutonous greed

Impressionable voices wrote to delight, suggestible choices from a mind’s eye insight.. yet as the writer writes does he envisage what the reader sees? jotting down jovialities of mysteries..from well beyond the potent, powerful pen, masquerading reality now and then..for it is he that conjures blight in books with trellis fork-tongue in noctural nooks, stories and poetry, an exquisite fine art to warm the cockles of the heart