RECHERCHÉ

RECHERCHÉ

Floral fresh air and the greenery born of shamrock carpets

Honeyed sparkles in my eyes as I traipsed along sunlit gardens

Finding a four leaf clover was a triumph

Always wary of the gnome who guarded the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow

A medley and a festival of songbirds deep in choir, each in hues of the sunset sky!

Running through daisy meadows on summer afternoons,

In every daydream I found pixies and elves everywhere

Stretching out on picnic mats and looking for unicorn shaped clouds

On a Pegasus I wanted to fly away to Neverland or Far, Far Away…

Chewing on caramel muffins and cinnamon buns

Skipping on sun-warmed cobblestones; an ideal amusement was hopscotch !

Coloured chalks of pastel pink, blue and yellow shimmered under the dappled sunlight which in vain I tried to clutch

Goddess of the seas, wizard on a Halloween-- in cloaks long and flowing gowns

Hobbling after woodland critters as they scurried to gather acorns and holly berries,

Autumn leaves crunching underfoot was delightful and a crinkling so merry!

Swelling puddles of raindrops made me pine for adventures to sunny harbours and anchor my ship in placid waters

Stars at twilight and fireflies in flight held me enthralled as did enchanting fairytales

Granny's homestead with orchard of pears was my royal garden and my Prince Charming was hiding somewhere

Winter was a season when the snow queen paraded in her recherché fare

I was born free, free to imagine and believe in fantasy with a wondrous flair !

Pic Courtesy: Pixabay

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.

WHEN THE SHARDS SING, the BEAST AWAKENS( DAY 22, LETTER W)

CHAPTER 21 WHEN THE SHARDS SING, the BEAST AWAKENS Dawn was hours away, but nobody at Meadow Brook Cottage was sleeping. The stew was gone. The bread was devoured. The porridge pot was polished clean. The berry tart for dessert existed only as stains on Dapper’s snout. Tasha slept by the hearth, her milk cup clutched to her like a shield. The Knights Army sat around the scarred oak table, full-bellied and hollow-eyed, because Papa Koala’s words were still heavy in the air. As they pored over the map, Tasha roused from her sleep and knocked over her milk cup. Her milk cup rolled across the floorboards, hit the table and stopped dead against the oaken leg directly under the crystal apple. Both the objects buzzed in sync. Tasha whimpered in her sleep and t...

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. ...

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