VALENTINE EVENT (DAY 4, ARTOONSINN)

The shivery willow trees are dancing

silhouettes in the moonlight argentine

The summer air is replete

With spilling fragrance of damask roses and jessamine

The milieu and aura tingle my senses

It's time to light the tealights and aromatic candles.

Evading wary eyes, I scurry on tiptoe,

Darting my eyes hither-thither…

I must make good time, can't hold back any longer!

Dashing into my room, fastening the lock,

My excitement knows no bounds,

It's brimming chock-a-block!

Unlacing a smooth satin bow silvery

I'm reunited with my true love;

Hush!...

I'm in a tryst with my diary!

Pic Courtesy:ArtoonsInn Poetry Parlour

©️ Sangeetha Kamath

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CHẠ̀WKHRĀW (Chxw̒kh rxw̒)

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QUEST FOR THE BEARS (DAY 18, LETTER Q)

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HIRAETH

Most rainy afternoons make me jog down memory lane, to the rhythm of the downpours that cascades down in sheets. And I slacken to the percussion of the raindrops tapping against my window pane. Flashes of memories of the halcyon days of the mid 1970’s come back to find me, to haunt me like mists hanging heavy and still. My only solace at this juncture are my vintage albums. The windows to the past and my very own time machine. Mulling over the pictures, I pen her a tribute: Once upon a time, there was a time when photos were Black & White, Monochrome, Sepia But the trees in your backyard were a much Idyllic Green--Verdant, Jade, and Lime. The fire in your hearth, a sunset Orange--red-hot, Amber and glimmering as you stoked it. The skies, immensely boundless, a much Pristine Blue--Cornflower, Sapphire and Azure, As you pointed out to me the floating frothy clouds, the eagles gliding with their fanned out wings; Or the occasional lone airplane soaring dominantly, a tiny speck hi...

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CHAPTER 15 RUTHLESS REVELATIONS The Three Little Pigs stood triumphant in the whimsical cottage's living room, surrounded by mismatched furniture and waltzing dust motes. Baconne , Porkinn , and Swinedell grinned at each other, puffing out their chests like gangsters. Baconne swaggered closer to the makeshift bar. "You know," he said, stroking his shoulder, "the Big Bad Wolf wasn't so bad after all, was he?" His grin split wide, showing a gold-capped tooth. The pigs snorted, their belly laughs vibrating the chandeliers above. Swinedell poured three tiny glasses of wild truffle liqueur with a theatrical flourish. "Cheers to us!" he growled, hoisting a glass. "We wanted his posh cottage for ourselves. Wolfie mutt was just defending his pad." His eyes glinted like cheap jewels. Goldwynn's face paled. She stammered as she whispered, " Wha...

Sangeetha Kamath

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