Short Bio: Pias Majid

Blooming Crucifixion

I am the gusto, cross bearing minaret, 

Even from the extreme branch of welkin,

I quest for you,my clandestine floret.

You do not belong to my plantation but in graveyard,

So graceful a tumskin,engrossed in frisk,

To whom,I confer all my amour.

As you turn just wax dissolved in bone,

The entire universe becomes crashed,

Welcome now,both,vert and ruin.

The moon sinks in doleful sap,

Yet you mingle with the holy virgin,

In Jerusalem,within haystack.

When night emerges passionate,

You are lac of colour golden.

Woodlands suffer from parched humidity,

And you witness aqua in drowned enmity.

The track is elegant with thorn,itself the Christ,

It's the season of cedar fall,and in it,

You are the newbie planted gloom.

I organize variety of corky melody at your opaque original,

Now watch how wretches come closer........ 

Cognition 

Dandelions of moonshine have blown in clutster,

Finding you unfading there,I dive into the golden error.

Flashing incubus of thirty springs,

I have been waiting sitting at the shore,

In this survival of eternal summer,

The fancy of fate only flavoured me with fervent flood.

The Progenitor of Demise 

The dune,

And the dormant tune.

The horizon,

And the crazy caper in expansion.

The birth of my corpse existence,

Emerges always in the umbrage,

Of such golden vortex.

The Coffin Street 

Permuting his artistry,

A mythic potter erects my sepulchre,

Olive green with hues of silvery golden.

Darkness starts flaming over the horizon,

A sylvan fay walks towards the mountain,

Plaits of her hair contain

Unreckoned chase,now in extinction. 

I am nothing but a redolent skeleton,

Floating in haem of those embryonic rapine,

Who looks upon and finds

You in fraction,

A night,mysterious yet livelong;

Beaten by the morn.

The Lunatic Helio

Ait of elf, 

Ungraceful egrets,

I will reach the bower of anil forage,

Transcending dew laden clump,

As I got the hydrated hint of fuscous blooming,

As if,with cloudburst of silk,

All my elided sensation are returning......

Who has planted so many faunts,

Moribund daffodils on meridian of obscure surplus?

Here now,an octopus is holding the pate of cloud,

Virid of maiden is overflowing with mercury of death.

Once,I was drowned in heap of Shefalis,

Unfurling,macula of memories,

Discovered owing to autumn. 

Ringing are the thousand passions of rose,

And they have awakened,

Umpteen plexus in crimson golden of winter palace.

With a helio in high,

Eclipsed by the parish lantern.