IF ONLY I COULD TURN BACK TIME

If only I could turn back time! Don't we all wish that we could? When I don't rain down words in torrents on my treasured pages, I sketch-- Sketch my memories from the age old photographs in my albums ✨

A picture speaks a thousand words it is said. Though the retro albums hold only black & white pictures, I fill in the colors from my memory. I accentuate a certain sketch with a certain mood that had a remarkable effect on me at a certain point of time.

Decades back, I held a tremendous fascination for the moon. I still do. Crescents and the ones with misty halos in particular kindles the dewy-eyed child in me . Hauling me back to the mystique of a fairytale book. An other-worldly feel 🌙

If I want to bring back the ethereal quality that the picture deserves, I always sketch a pale, hazy moon 🌕

When I don't find the right words for my endless ramblings , I stop trying to push it and let my illustrations do the talking. Of a dream that has only come to a halt in this universe, but continues as a reality with a happy ending in an alternate one✨

My time machine is here and now. The past, present and future occurs concurrently. That's the belief I uphold.🌙✨

---Sangeetha Kamath Prabhu

Comments

Moxie N' Mettle

MOXIE N' METTLE In slivers and fragments as my sleep tiptoes, did I do right or wrong my heart needles… Some skies are born of black holes and tempest wreck, There glitters not a ray of light, nor a speck When curtains turbid hold all light hostage, Sandstorms, hailstorms, dust storms, snowstorms, windstorms assail and ravage Spanning my wings as a raging fire Or as a mellow glow of a fairy light in the distant darkness, quite debonaire I'll ignite my spark from within like a star born into itself spurting lava Or explode leaving trails of cosmic dust like a Supernova I will be the Sun creating galaxies and many a constellation. Or burn like a single flame of the candle to keep my hopes and dreams alive with determination! I will be at my own pace I will be whoever and whatever I want to be—in my own race Collapse, crash and crumble! But I'll...

CLOGYRNACH ( Day 8, Soul Craft Poetry)

CLOGYRNACH How time flies, they grow up too soon When they'd bawled you'd shown them the moon Your mirror image Feels she's in a cage Stomping rage! 'Teen Typhoon' Pic Courtesy: Soul Craft ©️ Sangeetha Kamath Clogyrnach, Welsh poetic form is typically a six-line syllabic stanza with an ab rhyme scheme: Line 1: 8 syllables with an a rhyme Line 2: 8 syllables with an a rhyme Line 3: 5 syllables with a b rhyme Line 4: 5 syllables with a b rhyme Line 5: 3 syllables with a b rhyme Line 6: 3 syllables with an a rhyme.

JOURNEY MOST TREACHEROUS ( DAY 23, LETTER J)

CHAPTER 22 JOURNEY MOST TREACHEROUS The plan was set. With a departure set before daybreak they would easily avoid the pig patrols, reaching Mistwood Shadow Glade before the Mighty Boar knew their agenda. As they filed out to grab minimal winks of sleep that wouldn’t come, the crystal apple sat alone in the dark, throwing tiny red constellations across the ceiling in the library. Watching. Waiting. They packed ammo for the battle of the ages. "Mistwood Shadow Glade is three days away. Day one: Cross the dell before twilight or the pig scouts sniff out your wake. Day Two: Skirt around the Bone Fields. Better still, avoid it altogether! We take shortcuts through low lying rivers. Water hides our scent. Day three: Reach the fringes of the Mistwood Shadow Glade. Keep the shards from getting activated along the way. No fires after dusk. ...

WABI SABI

I sit amidst and look around the gentle mess of an assortment of art, surrounded by half-finished paintings, worn brushes, and scraps of paper filled with scribbled thoughts for my journal, I find comfort in remembering Wabi Sabi. This ancient Japanese philosophy has become my guiding light, illuminating the beauty in the incomplete. I recall the first time I stumbled upon Wabi Sabi. I was wandering through a local art gallery, and a particular piece caught my eye. It was a simple, rustic tea bowl with a jagged, irregular crack running down its side and a broken handle. To me, it seemed imperfect, flawed to the bone even. But as I stood there, taking in the subtle nuances of the piece, I began to see its beauty. The crack wasn't a mistake; it was a part of the bowl's history, of its well loved use and a faded look as well–a result of being passed down generations as a sentimental heirloom. That moment marked the beginning of my journey with Wabi Sabi. As I embrace Wabi Sabi...

GATES TO THE VAULT( DAY 24, LETTER G)

CHAPTER 23 GATES TO THE VAULT Three days of trudging, trekking and aching muscles later, the cozy, sunlit, honeyed woods of Bramble Shire were miles behind them. At the edge of the deep, fog covered forest, a wispy figure appeared before them –The Guardian Maiden, Blaire barricading their way. "What do you seek in Mistwood Shadow Glade?" Her voice was the soft breeze that twirled around them. Ethereal! Hopper stepped forward gingerly. "The Locke Jewel. The last shard to piece together the Starwood Crystal. Where’s it hidden?" Blaire pursed her lips. "I’ll trade, as you know. Tell me your deepest secret. One you’d kill to hide." Chipper tensed. Hopper hesitated. There was a lot at stake, when she prodded, “The Pigs are closing in. Time is of the essence here, Rabbit ! If you don’t choose, you lose." Papa Koala warned, " ...

Sangeetha Kamath

Search This Blog