Young blue beloved
Kisses Malabar's lips
First love of monsoon
Kerala's heart perfume
Tinkling silver bells
chime in green dells
sacred fig's palm
Clapping breaks calm
Showering coins on green fabric
Muse with cuckoo's magic
Dancing with easterly air
Beautiful Vindhya's hair
Green laps, milky breast
Bestow love to the guest.
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Author:
Priya Tomar (
Offline) - Published: August 23rd, 2025 01:37
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: Damaso
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Comments2
Always wished I could read Greek the last two lines I could read were tantalizingly beautiful
Green laps - green fields
Milky breast - hundreds rivers in India
Guest - monsoon
Thanks for reading.
You are most welcome and thank you for the aid with the metaphors
These monsoon musings unfurl like the first warm rain after a long, thirsty summer; every drop a note in a soft raga for the senses.
I can almost feel the damp, salt‑sweet breath off Malabar’s coast, the air so lush it clings like silk.
The “tinkling silver bells” and “cuckoo’s magic” dance through the green in playful syncopation,
while fig leaves applaud in sudden gusts. There’s a tenderness in those “green laps” and “milky breast.”
It's a welcome that feels both intimate and infinite, the way the monsoon cradles all it touches.
It’s a love letter written in rain, and the ink never runs.
Thank you so much for reading and interpretation.
Your kind words encourage me , much appreciated.
You are most welcome dear Priya 🙏🏻
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