Wednesday 21 October 2015
Thursday 15 October 2015
As I sat contemplating on the confluence of the mighty Indus and Zanskar , the bewitching beauty of the place numbs the senses and only the eyes feast and admire the abundance of Nature.
Approaching from two opposite directions the different hued waters serenely canoodle to meet, mingle and flow effortlessly merging into a single entity.
Nature seems to be so simple and uncomplicated.
Wednesday 14 October 2015
Friday 25 September 2015
Road to freedom
She ducked out of the path and
the mirror behind her shattered into hundred shards.
Furious, at missing his mark,
the savage charged at her. The splintered reflections pierced his soles as he
slipped and hit his head on the ornamental chair edge. His limp body lay
sprawled.
She was on the Interstate, richer by a million dollars transferred
to her account, to a life sans bruises.
The cop’s siren sounding harsher by every nanosecond, her moist hands
shivered on the steering. The shrill sped past her to become a dot in the distant.
She took a detour to freedom.
Written for : FRIDAY FICTIONEERS
Photo prompt : The Reclining Gentleman
Click HERE to read FF posts.
Thursday 24 September 2015
Wednesday 23 September 2015
Tuesday 22 September 2015
Solitary painter.
Holding my lemon-grass laced tea, I peered through the huge French windows to see the familiar scene. I stared for a moment and shook my head. Would the enigmatic creature ever cease to lift the curtain of uncertain mystery over herself?
Her hair streaked silver with life's harsh experiences as I surmise, she appeared healthy but slightly bent . The green foliage and the abundant red roses seemed willing partners to keep away unwanted gaze and intrusion.
No household help or staff seem to give her company nor had I heard a bark or a meow.
She seemed content to co-exist alone in her own company painting on canvas.
Is her brush dipped into the colours of her past or are her strokes of a hopeful future?
Is her immersion in the art a passage to escape or expectation of a footfall or a shroud of grief?
My mind is ravaged with a thousand questions only to be greeted by silence of the winds blowing. Wish I could borrow the bumble bee's wings to hover around her and delve into the veil that she was take refuge.
I had never seen her fetch groceries, shop at the florist nor did she attend the Church.
The neighbourhood people whispered weird words about her eccentric life but the surface had to be scratched to find out if she needed help.
As I find no answers, I recollect the Nature poet's verse
Will no one tell me what she sings?
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old unhappy far off things,
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of today?
Some natural sorrow , loss or pain,
That has been and may be again.
The echo of the lines is heard in the silence of the mind and I cannot help but compare the parallels drawn with the solitary reaper and this lonely lady alone in her verdant garden with her palette of colours.
One day we will laugh and bond over tea and scones in the verdant garden.
AMEN.
Written for : Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
The beautiful picture prompt could not hold me back from crossing the word limit.
Wednesday 16 September 2015
Sabarmati Ashram
The corroded sheet of the
gate had withstood the test of time and was
merely teetering to the
old rusted hinges. It made a creaking sound as any
visitor tried to push
it signalling the inmates of an arrival.
He held the postcard and curled his lips.
The recipient was
an ordinary soul whose extraordinary thinking and way of life
catapulted him
into the league of men who could re-write the destinies of
millions.
The path of 'ahmisa' or
non-violence was a tool to fight the British Empire
without bloodshed.
The postman read
the brief address: “Mahatma Gandhi, India.”
Written for : Friday Fictioneers and thanks you David Stewart for the photo prompt.
Tuesday 15 September 2015
Rode away
He stood akimbo in front of his white Arabian horse,Charming , peered into her
eyes deeply. She blinked and neighed ferociously , the unsaid mute
communication conveyed to the equestrian comrade.
He rode on her with élan .
Entering the spacious decorated hall, all eyes riveted on him.
The mood suddenly turned sombre and the air pregnant with suspense. Many
gloved hands clutched their scabbard anticipating a duel. He smiled and shook
hands with the bride's father and doffed his hat at the old lady. His lips partook
wine and his words were far from a forlorn rejected lover. He talked about fair
maidens in-waiting and gracefully slid his arm around Beatrice 's slender waist
and they burned the dance floor.
Merriment returned to clear away the clouds of uncertainty, that loomed with
his arrival.
The beautiful bride and the aristocratic bridegroom mingled with the guests
accepting their good wishes. He went up to the couple along with Beatrice,
the bride's best friend and wished them to allay suspicion.
He let out a sharp whistle and Charming barged into the hall. With a quick
hand he put his winsome lady on the saddle, mounting, he galloped away
leaving the groom thunderstruck.
The lovers rode away on the path of a new life, a new beginning.
written for : Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
and the photo prompt provided by
Scott, author of the blog, Scott's Place.
Click HERE to read FFfAW entries.
Sunday 13 September 2015
Before
I breathed
before I met you
now I live.
now I live
before I survived
with you, we'll thrive.
Written for : haiku horizons
Boat
The shadows dwarfed as the perspiration beads bathed
them.
Stepping into the rusted body, they
perched on the edge, “wasn’t Old Pedro’s
disappearance a mystery."
The drawl evident in Harry's speech.
His remains were never found. Folklore concluded
that the boat was haunted.
"Let's not dig up graves after a
hearty repast", Sam said as the spicy curry
taste still lingered on his tongue.
The abrasive boat long depreciated its
value had sunk deeper into the earth.
The ground beneath them rattled.
"Was it an earthquake or am I drunk?”
Harry's pulse rising.
Old Pedro turned in his grave, beneath.
Written for : Friday Fictioneers and photo prompt provided by Jennifer Pendergast
To read all the FF posts, click HERE.
Saturday 12 September 2015
Float
illegal immigrants
on high seas
hopes float
hopes float
bodies drown
humanity dissolved
Written for : Haiku Horizons
on high seas
hopes float
hopes float
bodies drown
humanity dissolved
Written for : Haiku Horizons
Thursday 10 September 2015
Patterns
Azure waters of the sky
dispersed cotton clouds fly
assume shapes varied
Stars, meteors, galaxy myriad.
Celestial patterns, twinkling blanket.
White swirling surf on shore
lashes , open the deep secrets more
sand grains a mesmerising code
decipher, its origin, a boulder erode.
Crabs weave a sandy pattern.
Petals bloom, display their hues
sipping nectar , buzzing bees
B'flies spread their palette
nightingales croon a duet.
Nature's serene pattern of colours
Full moon, crescent shape.
smiles and tears drape
sorrow and joy
rise , ebb and buoy.
Life, a collage of mixed patterns.
Written for : Theme Thursday
dispersed cotton clouds fly
assume shapes varied
Stars, meteors, galaxy myriad.
Celestial patterns, twinkling blanket.
White swirling surf on shore
lashes , open the deep secrets more
sand grains a mesmerising code
decipher, its origin, a boulder erode.
Crabs weave a sandy pattern.
Petals bloom, display their hues
sipping nectar , buzzing bees
B'flies spread their palette
nightingales croon a duet.
Nature's serene pattern of colours
Full moon, crescent shape.
smiles and tears drape
sorrow and joy
rise , ebb and buoy.
Life, a collage of mixed patterns.
Written for : Theme Thursday
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