SHADOWS AND ECHOES (WRITEATHON DAY 3)

SHADOWS AND ECHOES

Your eyes speak volumes and your songs are a divine serenade

The silences between us are a sweet echo of things unspoken and unsaid

Upon the sun-warmed beaches we had built sandcastles, courtyards, turrets and towers

Snapshots are in frames as we picked seashells or in the sand, carved our names with flowers

Swathed in silks my hair had shimmered like diaphanous pixie wings under the autumn moon

Your eyes radiant like chatoyant jewels had glittered with hues of the ocean and water lilies in bloom

Summer had turned to fall and then to frigid winter

There arrived one fine day, your much awaited letter:

Saying, let me be your wishing star and a safe harbor

Herein I will moor my ship dropping my anchor

If my world was a palette of paint, you are the blue of my sky

The red of my hopes, the gold of my sunshine and green of my joy

As I read your words the stars dazzled and danced beside the moon

You were coming to make me your bride very soon

The dawn sky had blushed with streaks of coral and a soft peach color

Rouge and fuchsia ribbons whirled when my heart had come to pass a brazen winter

Running my hands on the writing oh so familiar

I delicately folded the lavender fragrant paper...

Spring is emerging and under the spreading branches of the juniper tree stands a mailbox forlorn in the melting snow

Derelict with a moss covered facade awaiting your letter…a message or even a curio

My dreams, once a color of summer violets and forget-me-nots blue

Waits for someone to knock on its door to make them all come true

As I hold your last letter between the strings of my heart

Deafening quiet about this quaint unfinished little story is only a start

From a long forgotten sliver of time, a tiny vault of memory whispers a strain of melody

An unwritten tale, an unsung song or a heartfelt poetry

Whilst now caged in this monochrome, cheerless taupe world bland

Once upon a time we had created stripes and swirls of a rainbow wonderland

Lost echoes still reverberate in the silence of the dusky skies

Long shadows abound, some dreams were buried for your futile pretty little lies.

Pic Courtesy: Pixabay

Comments

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...

BOKETTO

In my quiet moments, I pause the world from its frantic pace. In that stillness, I wistfully gaze into the distance and just let things unfurl as they please. I let my thoughts flow, absorbing nothing. Internalizing nothing. And just like that, the strands of tightly woven twine untangle and the knots come loose. Today, as usual, I found myself caught up in the hustle and bustle of daily grind. I was rushing to get things done, stressing about deadlines, and feeling overwhelmed by the sheer amount of tasks on my to-do list. But then, I took a deliberate pause. With a deep breath, I stretched, stepped away from my desk, and walked out onto my balcony. Leaning on the railing, I looked down at the familiar lanes of my neighborhood, twirling around the corners behind the blocks of apartments. The park and playground stood deserted at noon amid the cluster of flowering trees and surrounded by the hedges lining the curbs. I gazed at the sky, feeling the warm sun on my face and ...

ARIEL AND BLUE-BLOOD SHOES

The waves crashed violently against the craggy mountainside and the moonlight shone on the lacy froths. As I waded through the water and stepped on the wet sand, I remembered another night which was many moons ago. The same glinting lights through the palace doorways and windows, the fireworks adorning the night sky like shooting stars and meteors. A royal celebration with all the works and the guests dressed up in their best finery and aristocratic jewelry. Of noble births they all were. Blue blooded as the matriarch had pointedly told me once. That unholy night! That night of icy hearts and howling laughter, the echoes of cackling that followed me till I ran on wobbly legs to find my place of comfort where the land met water… Hot tears streaming down, I regretted those days when I lost my heart to a man so spineless. Had I not dragged him to the shore, he would have been a mangled mass after being torn apart by the piranhas and other monstrous maws. How I regret…Oh!...

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...

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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