PAPER BOATS

The vintage albums I flip through

Takes me back to halcyon days

On grandmother's lap I would laze

Under pristine skies azure blue

She stoked amber fire for cooking porridge,

Lovingly fed me, narrating stories all the while

In her sun-drenched garden, myriad blooms we gathered

Weaving wreaths and posies, playing fairies and queens

Monsoons saw our paper boats sail away into the unknown

"Send me a paper boat after I'm gone, I will reply", she'd once jokingly said.

Dark clouds shrouded the golden rays

Doom would descend I had no clue

Blow unkind was fated, who knew!

We hobbled through thick fog and haze

Conned and deceived by her trusting kin

Gardens, home dishonestly proved no longer hers.

Ruthlessly razed, dreams blurred, one against the world

Pined away treachery to severe wither and heartbreak extreme

Heavens embraced her inside their gates divine

Haunting echoes left behind; when our souls sang and laughed together

Even today, I set my paper boats sail in the rivulet of rain

Tears of ink run, smudging the lines---"Mamama, I miss you. When will we meet again?"

GLOSSARY:

Mamama: Maternal grandmother.

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IRONCLAD

I trudged through withered bracken and the frosted winter parade As ice-storms swept across a barren, icicle'd glade A hushed midnight and the gloomy woods were bathed in a dull pallor of the gibbous moon Melodies lamented and moaned an endless, melancholic tune ‘Twas a lone walk through pastures of wilted blooms Solitude was a friend in the summers of honey breath in the deep green woods Swept away by the currents or blown away by the torrents As twilight lazily rested on hillocks and in the amaranthine dells Like a laden cloud I cascaded down when the load was a dead weight I had gathered pieces of myself and strung them together with a parched wreath Pensive was the boon of listening to rumbling whispers Like a dimpling stream I flowed and carved my own trails Like the ocean arose and crashed to write my own fate, Letting the sun guide my way and the moon shine on my rugged path Now I ask all the pulsing stars to sing of my struggles, The forests to hum...

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Glinting sunlight off jeweled pools of sapphire Shimmering in the vast aridness of coppery fire Fringed with a viridescent canopy of trees fig and fronds of palm A sanctuary for birds and animals to splash about, it's a soothing balm Scorched and parched, my soles trudge on the sun baked grains Seeking respite from the bleeding crimson fireball, stranded I remain Mounting sand dunes, slipping, tumbling, sinking Scraped and raw, peeling sunburnt skin Veils of illusion lifts from fleeting dreams and hollow shine Fading hues of paradise around reduced to shriveled creepers and withering vines Imperial silver puddles on blazing bronze sand Deceived again by the phantom of the parched land Visions and charms swirl like a mist under a chrome moon Conjuring sprites of the desert weave mirages of oasis and lagoons Sailing across a barren horizon are walls of crystal waves No water lilies and wild roses unfurl under these mystic skies. ©️ Sangeetha Kamath Pic Courtesy: Pixabay

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Winter’s aria glides like a gauzy gossamer veil Over the pastures, brooks, valleys and dales Gold and silver flecks pirouette in a frosty serenade Snow adorns the eaves, picket fences and the glade With holly twigs for arms outstretched, gazing with my lifeless blueberry eyes I long to be at the table laden with warm food and delicious toffee pies Across the brumal vanilla whisper, gleams a wonderland of diamante sequin The birch and oak laden showering me with clumps of snow, a roly-poly mannequin The door bursts open and the children are back Squealing excitedly, they plonk around me making snow angels and a round track Tamping down toy rails and setting on them trains, locomotives and engines They dress me up in a tweed jacket and a woolly hat, on my scarf is brooch of a silver bell that chimes Voila! Now I'm a station master holding red and green flags A smile has been carved on my face and stuffed with slices of red velvet cakes Joy abounds as I soak in the jambo...

Sangeetha Kamath

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