Hiding in garage

there is something hiding in the garage,

the clustered space dominated by car,

delusion of something true, like mirage,

.

shielding this present time, by a barrage

from the bombardments, of objects bizarre,

which are something hiding in the garage,

.

enclosing nasal holes, this entourage

of spicy scents of Arabian bazaar,

delusion of something true, like mirage,

.

flowering like an old lady’s corsage,

from somewhere appears, an image of tsar

who is somebody hiding in garage,

.

steam wafts, like from a parlour of massage,

mist, fog, haze, I can smell smoke of cigar,

delusion of something true, like mirage,

.

it is but quite a wide ranging montage,

my eyes clouded in the twinkle of stars,

I am somebody hiding in garage,

a delusion of something, like mirage

.

This is tagged as the poem for 18 November for NaBloPoMo.

Image source

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Blue Thing

The blue expanse up above

so wide, beneath which

all our lives astray

no path, just a foggy trance

 

confusion, delusion, askance

this life does nothing but betray

teach us all the lies, this bitch

of feelings, of emotions, of love

 

there is nothing but that blue thing

under which we all suffer and sing.

 

P.s.- Another one written just like Red Lust and Violet Juice. You can suggest the name for this particular poetic form, the rules of which are- (i) Three stanzas, rhyming scheme being- ABCD/DCBA/EE, (ii) Description of some strong emotion and (iii) Prominence of a color. And it would mean a lot to me if you would also write such a poem. Don’t forget to tell me about it.