MERRY MONARCHS

MERRY MONARCHS

On wispy and gossamer wings of gilded lace

Emerging from a closed vault, full of grace

Like a warrior braving the sun or storm

She's the butterfly with a courage to fearlessly transform

Ballerinas of the gardens, meadows and glen

With gowns of bright blue, vibrant orange or sparkling golden

Kissing the dew from buds and hearts of roses

From nasturtiums to foxgloves spinning in merry circles

Pieces of rainbows waltzing on every blossom

Exuberant monarchs of the summer season

On frail white wings with a silken hush

Flaunting their wings of splendor like divas stylish

Quenching their thirst with honey and nectar

If they could sing, the skies they would conquer

Sent by angels she's a harbinger

She inspires us to endure, a true bellwether!

©️ Sangeetha Kamath

Pic Courtesy: Pixabay

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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 saile...

A-Z Blogging Challenge Theme Reveal

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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 apartm...

THE WISE OLD OWL

The taxidermied owl was perched on the mantle piece, it's shiny, wise gaze fixated on her. Kim had an unsettling feeling with this sinister showpiece everytime she visited Cunningham Manor. She sat opposite Keith, going over all the details again and asking more questions. The investigation had drained both of them with no solution on end. It had been months. Audrey Cunningham had disappeared without a trace.. “I'm afraid we've done the best we could. We will be archiving this into the Cold Case Files in a couple of days”,sighed Kim. Out of nowhere, a sudden gust of wind knocked the owl off the mantelpiece. It dropped near Kim’s foot with a loud thud. A key neatly hidden key under it's talon was exposed. HELP and MUSIC BOX were etched weakly on it. **** “Mr. Cunningham! I need to see the Music Box right now”, Kim said with an authority as she radioed the team outside. It held a secret compartment in which a handwritten letter by Audrey said that her life was in danger...

Sangeetha Kamath

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