DIVERGENT

DIVERGENT

You are the WHITE moon burning on my BLACK night

You're the LEFT to my RIGHT

The PASTEL to my BRIGHT

You RISE, I DROWN

I SMILE, you FROWN

I want CLASSIC, you want JAZZ

In the end, to our own roaring music we stomp and waltz

I'm a TALKER, You're a LISTENER

You're my CALM in a TURBULENCE, whom I run to for cover

I'm the raging INFERNO and you're my dousing TIDAL WAVE

Why do they say opposites attract and can be together?

When meeting you has reduced me to nothing but a dying ember…

Pic Courtesy: Pixabay

©️ Sangeetha Kamath

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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...

THE BIG BAD WOLF( DAY 17, LETTER T)

CHAPTER 16 THE BIG BAD WOLF The pigs snarled like proper rascals, fixing their cold steely eyes on the Wolf's cottage. How dare he refuse to part with his cottage! When the pigs demand, it's given to them---no questions asked! Porkinn limped, Baconne was soggy, Swinedell rubbed a sore bump on his head, but they were far from defeated. Swinedell snorted, a crooked grin spreading across his face. "Wolf thinks 'e's posh, don't 'e? " Baconne sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring. "We want the cottage!” He growled. Porkinn cracked his fingers, his sly glance darting about. The pigs crept towards the back door, their footsteps silent on the soft grass. They spotted the Wolf through the kitchen window, stirring a pot of steaming stew for dinner. They kicked the door in, the wood splintering jaggedly. The latch gave in....

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 ...

HELLO FROM THE OTHER SIDE

The sleek steel grey landline with it's cordless handset gleams in the mid morning sunlight. It's only a fixture on the tabletop these past several years yet loved and flaunted for old times sake. Also, for the numerous times the handset had nestled in our palms. The vintage feel of it and the stronghold of memories I associate it with beats the smartphone by miles. It has in turn been a confidante of our precious moments, some idling talk, some annoyance oh yes ! and all before Whatsapp made an entry into our lives and the poor dear was no longer in demand. The world was at our fingertips. It doesn't complain, doesn't whimper, not even a sigh, murmur or a slightest hint at a whisper of life for the past decade and more! Except… On Thursday the daylights were socked out of me! Lost in mundane chores, I had my gloved hands deep in a pile of soapy water scrubbing away at the breakfast dishes. The usual swell of silence was harshly rend by the landline from the livin...

Sangeetha Kamath

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