Winter’s icy blood

Winter’s icy blood
thickens in our veins.
Trees know a secret or two
winter warm settles
on their leaves, fresh dew.

Tiresome Tessellation

The many tragic faces of being
The Many Tragic Faces of Being (c)isyllis 2015-16

This tiresome tessellation of
seasons in me.
How will I decipher,
find the only truth that is there perhaps?
I exist in such wide range of colours,
that even my tetrachromacy fails me
I cannot render an image of myself today,
but a certain surge of power I feel.

For those who have arrived


Drifting away with the winter breeze
yellow brown leaves.
Fading away like poetry
read sitting on old creaking wooden chairs.
Wilting away like spring flowers
gloomily blooming in December’s wrath.
Dust filled narrow lanes of my youth
bring me to the silver tresses
of antiquity long cherished.
The Sun will shine its golden light
the moon its milky luminescence
on those
who have lost and now have risen.
Only love for those
who have left and for those who have arrived.
(December 16, 2013)