Sangeetha Kamath

Scritch-scratch…scritch…scratch.. I scribble away with my pencil for want of nothing better to do. Building my word bank, writing fiction, creating art…or just writing about the mundane rise and close of my day.  Scritch-scratch… Dear Diary, Word of the day today is Kenopsia. It’s a new-fangled word which I chanced upon quite recently, all thanks to the pursuits propounded during downtime and this inescapable lockdown. I took upon one of them to building my vocabulary. Though this word was a novel one, the sentiment associated with it was not alien to me. I just didn’t have a name for it back then. Looking back, during my school days, I had always dilly-dallied on the last day before it closed down for the academic year. While everybody just couldn’t wait to rush home or to hang out with their friends, the arcane sentimental in me would always wait it out until a major part of the crowd had dwindled. I would get captivated and drawn to the emptiness and vacuum of the classroom, which a

Oceans of cosmic might Sky awash with Northern light Oh! What a mesmerising sight! Heavens fires bright, daylight on a magnetic midnight Colours abound in the mystical Tundra Poured out from a celestial amphora Of the Goddess of Dawn, Aurora It's a spectacularly hued, divine opera The violaceous skies of deep amaranthine Lavenders, magentas and mauve divine Reminds me of cherry glows and plum wine Amid trails and swirls of glistening tangerine and smaragdine Arcs and curtains in the horizon At the edge of the sky, crystals frozen Pirouettes and twirls as the empyrean redden The glow of twinkling stars magically deepen. ©️ Sangeetha Kamath  Pic Courtesy:Image by Myriams-Fotos from Pixabay

  The fiery accents of orange-gold in the western sky had gingerly muted into a soft peach. Rich hues of champagne and pastel pink blended with the steely greys in the horizon. A flurry of various birds and their dark silhouettes dotted the myriad tints as they returned to their roosts. They cackled joyously as they flew overhead. The chorus and the orchestra of the birds gradually drifted into the distance until I could only hear an echo or a settling-in faint cluck from a faraway tree. Everything had gone quiet and still outside.  I felt anything but elated with these songs and sights of creation which would otherwise have stirred a sense of exhilaration in me and have me hurriedly rummage about for my camera. Those were the extremely wretched of days when I had just about struggled to get my bearings together after an unfortunate and untimely demise of an infant in the family, a few days prior.  The disbelief and emotional upheaval was taxing, to say the least. Snapping out of my re

  The yacht, brand new, bobbed in the pale gray waters where it was moored. Freshly painted in chrome, Contessa was going on her maiden journey today with a family of three. Alan Barlow had purchased this beauty for a few million and before holding a party aboard with friends, he wanted to take his wife Ana and seven year old daughter to the middle of the sea to show them dolphins and seals. Family getaway. Or was it his guilt for not giving them quality time in the race for raking in the moolah and to stay on top of the Forbes list? The press was all over the place and that was all that mattered to Alan. Publicity! Glamour, glitz, ambition, millions…billions! The Barlow family posed on the pier for photographs with the gleaming yacht in the background. Ana’s white, flowing summer dress billowed in the soft breeze and her chestnut hair shone with streaks of gold like a halo against the sun making a slow, shy appearance.  Rosamund had an excited look on her face and was restless to emba

  Wintry wands of silver-blue  Poising as ballerinas in rime tutus  A snow white canvas with a confetti of sculpted flakes Under a shiver of ivory glacial lace The sky is an ocean of rolling greys Oyster to pewter, deep onyx to abalone pales Silhouettes of stark charcoaled outlines  Skating rink is fragilely frozen with a layer of paper thin ice Avenues fringed with frosty Brier and rhododendron hedges Bitter winds rattle denuded twigs gnarled and twisted North winds rasp as neve crackles  Nascent sun rays glinting off mazarine  puddles   Writhing and cracking barks in the brumal zephyr  Moonshine sparkles on bejewelled Holly like diamond fire  Upon a dappled sky bearing clouds ashen There's a half written poetry and a winter's hymn While russets, auburns and vivid hues I long for Hearth song was a bounty of warm soups and folksy choir Crackling fireplaces matched the apricot sunrise  Hibernating flora of winter wonderland dreamt of powder blue, bellflower skies  To rise like a