DAINTY PINK DREAMS

DAINTY PINK DREAMS

Spring comes like the long awaited pink dream

The sun-kissed air spilled with a perfume of woody almond and vanilla ice cream…

Cherry blossom bouquets in vivid contrast to skies cerulean,

The glow of champagne blush, serenading the cotton-candy clouds with their wistful paean!

In the moonlight, they're incandescent pearls on a gnarled bough

Lustre washed silver shimmer by a celestial artist through and through!

It's the wedding of myriad blooms of tints lilac, lavender, mauve and white

Silken confetti showering the earth with multitude delight!

Million hues of green knock on the doors of wintertide

Ballads of birdsongs bid dulcet goodbyes to the snow queen

Fervently she casts aside her snowy duvet

Stepping out on tiptoes from the rime spangled bassinet

With promises of sweet summer rain and floral infused breeze

Spring she becomes, buzzing alive with verdant canopies, lush creepers and posies

Apricot hues replace the whites, ashen and dove grays

Rejuvenated and invigorated by spilling coy sun rays

Chartreuse sprigs spurt on branches once rugged and bare

Larks and wrens celebrate with a chorus of songs rare

Florid garths are a ballroom beckoning all the belles

Like a true love's kiss, primroses bloom blushing tangerine at the tips

April sun brings with it masterpieces of smaragdine and honeyed stalks

Wildflowers in the glades and downy sorrel, carpets our walks

Poppies roll and quiver against the green

Brilliant rubies rivaling the toasty sun like a diva in velvety sheen

Upon the knolls, the daisies waltz to the choir of the zephyr

Rabbits scamper about my feet in all frolic and fervour

Every bloom of aster is a riot of purples and magenta

Burgeoning buds are danseuse in exotic fabrics taffeta

Moorlands brim with jubilant carols of primavera orchestra

Verdure waves are splattered with polka dots of varicoloured plethora

From the rain-drenched mud, sprout golden clusters

Buttercups and Jonquils of burnished yellows, a muse for poets and songwriters

Meandering through the lea is an irenic grace

As summer skirts sweep along the chiffon petals blanketing them with lace

Upon the quilts of clover as I tippy toe

Lucky charms of shamrock I gather, it's my December mistletoe

Thawed brooks and streams dance in rippling grandeur

Flowing and bubbling again making music with mighty ardour

Swards of grass sway to the rhythm of the melody

If you could hear them, they're rejoicing, singing 'Howdy, Reverdie!

Pic Courtesy: Pixabay

Comments

CHẠ̀WKHRĀW (Chxw̒kh rxw̒)

As usual, at the dot of 8 pm, the Guzheng plays its stirring chords, the haunting notes beginning a slow sweep, rising to a powerful crescendo and alternating with a tranquil ebbing of melody surfing me along the waves of soul-stirring, yet a serene stretch of an hour every day. I make it a point to sit right beside my dining room window to bask in this lulling sound therapy as my neighbor downstairs diligently plays on this zither, oblivious to my admiration. What a luxury it is to have a live orchestra while I savour the last meal of the day. It's a welcome distraction to the otherwise jarring squabbling of the playful neighbourhood children. The Chạ̀wkhrāw of this– that the musical household might move one day is a foreboding thought. Foreshadowing this, deeply ingrained in me is the shattering news I had received upon returning to Singapore after an 8 month absence here. The Ramadan festive season was fast approaching at the end of March but the apar...

ANAM CARA

The waves are soft and frothy. Laced with gossamer frills tenderly kissing the tips of my toes covered with the grainy sand of the rugged seashore where I'm sitting, wistful. A gust of briny breeze tousles my hair as I gaze as far as my eyes can see. A flock of terns wheel overhead, their sharp, shrill cries punctuating the air as they dive and swoop over the surfs. A lone frigate bird , its crimson belly dazzling like a jewel skims majestically above, its long, slender wings outstretched as it rides the thermals high above the ocean. I absorb the sights and sounds of the late afternoon while absentmindedly scooping seashells beside me. As the afternoon phases, the furthest rim of the ocean is fringed in a gilded hem and the sleepy sun yawns, its dipping glow streaking the sky in a mellow tangerine and warm cherry. As I continue sitting there, the ships and yachts appear --specks of light from the portholes glimmering in the distance, reminding me of the phrase “That ship has sai...

INSIDIOUS

The car juddered to a halt and refused to budge an inch forward. "Luke, I thought we had a full gas tank and the car was serviced just this weekend…what's wrong?" "I have no idea, Stella…We're in the middle of nowhere and my phone has no signal! But look there. It says 'Baby Museum' on the signpost. Shall we go in and see if they have a landline to get us out of this mess?" "Guess we have no choice. But I'm very uneasy, Luke. I just want to go home and rest. Our baby's due in a couple of weeks." "I'm so sorry, honey. But look at the brighter side. We can check out this place in advance." At the entrance were standees of Tinkerbell and Peter Pan. The lobby glowed with pastel pink shimmering lights. Mannequins of fairies lined the walls. Luke approached the front desk. "Yes sir, we will have it arranged. Meanwhile, why don't the both of you take a tour of our museum?" Stella took Luke's arm and hobbl...

EILÍFUR GJÖF (ETERNAL GIFT)

It was pre-dawn and still dark. The shrill alarm jolted me from the depths of a death-like sleep even as I tried to cling on to the fading vestiges of a sweet dream. I was just within reach of seeing its mysterious ending but it was gone. Like a wisp of smoke! I tried to slowly blink away the remnants of sleep from my eyes---heavily lidded and which just refused to open even a crack at a grim time like this. The alarm was ringing incessantly. Could it be a mistake that I set it to go off so early? At this bleak hour?! Uh! Hold on, it wasn’t the alarm but a phone call for crying out loud!” At this unearthly time, when most of this side of the world was asleep, I dearly hoped that it would be from one of the two sources--Either from ** Piny Woods Primary School or ** Woody Pines Primary School . Yes, Thank God! I was right! I recognised ** Carrie’s number of **Piny Woods Primary School. Phone calls during pitch-black hours did tend to give me the chills, driving me to think ...

QUEST FOR THE BEARS (DAY 18, LETTER Q)

CHAPTER 17 QUEST FOR THE BEARS The next day, the pigs trotted off to spread mischief in the woodland, their ricky-ticky steps scuffing the damp path into a mess of overturned leaves and broken twigs. Goldwynn stayed crouched behind the wonky rain barrel until the sound of their pig-trouble thinned, then thinned again, then dissolved into the larger quiet of the trees. She didn’t move right away. The woods had a way of listening after the pigs left, as if it wasn’t sure they were truly gone. The air held its breath with her. When she finally stood, the silence felt heavier than noise. No birds called. The light came down in broken pieces, the sun playing hide-and-seek through beech and alder, dappling the forest floor with spools of pale gold. The ground under her boots was soft and cold, a black earth that smelled of truffles gone to rot and old rain. It stuck to ...

Sangeetha Kamath

Search This Blog