Thursday, July 31, 2014

Armed with Imagination

She attempted to conjure a backdrop intense,
which took ages, but she finally found
one, as it suddenly appeared in her mind-
of reluctance to lose it, she hurriedly penned down-

A sinister silence pervaded the air,
the sky devoid of the sun's flaming glare
Darkness and shadow seemed to haunt
The trees arched down, somber and gaunt
Whatever faint moonlight was hidden by a cloud,
the wind whispered piercing and loud
I can't find my way back to where I began,
my roam had been enacted without a plan
Indistinguishable was every turn,
the sudden hush was making my stomach churn,
working myself up into a frenzy of dread,
that grew with every step I would tread
Adrift and astray, had gone my path
leaving me victim to solitude's wrath
My eyes scanned the scene for a mark,
that I would be rescued from the dark
that was so perplexing when I traipsed alone
wandering into the great unknown

Waves of ideas began to crash
upon a mind that initially held none
They rolled as inspiration, never to cease,
as she drafted them down one by one

Noise continually pressed in on every side,
people walked purposefully with confident strides
Vehicles traveled along the street,
the gravel echoed with the pounding of feet
As I searched my way out with growing unease,
perspiring despite the gentle breeze,
anxiety hanging over my clouded mind,
that seemed absolutely unable to find
a logical response to my current plight
of disarray and mayhem mingled with fright
Each road and building were irksomely akin,
in endless circles I continued to spin
as people walked unfaltering, never to pause,
appearing too occupied to halt, going for such a cause,
My eyes scanned the crowded scene for a sign,
anything, anything enough benign
that could save me from this muddling ordeal,
that's beginning to seem rather surreal

A facade of determination, armed with her thoughts,
she sailed on with whatever her imagination had brought...

Saturday, July 12, 2014

Oceanic Relic

First published in "On the Rusk"

It is corrugated, winking in the gleam,
mildly moistened as it lies on my palm
Ridges and whorls seem to stream...
of the brackish ocean, it wears a balm
It appears to perpetually scream
of the crashing waves upon the sand-
a calming sound, tranquil, serene,
music of the sea, it possesses a band
of instruments that play only to your ear,
faraway melodies light years away
So soothing and sweet, quick to be endeared
bringing colors to the eye- blue, gray,
sapphire, periwinkle, truly aesthetic hues,
colors that alleviate tension, as well as the tunes
shifting a mentality to mollified from blue,
as you envision the water lapping like dunes
Pretty to look at- of carnation pink
spiraling inwards, flawless to feel
as if it had spent time to adorn and prink
itself with unconcealed zeal
It emanates a scent faint and saline-
a fresh, invigorating smell,
It impacts every sense, you can perceives the signs
of the beauty in my palm- a coastal sea shell

Sunday, July 6, 2014

Darkness

Following the sound of my voice, she sat next to me. "Describe the color blue," she ordered.
I thought for a few minutes, although it felt like several lives. "Blue is the color of the sky during the day, when it's not dominated by clouds that hide its beauty, or when it's not governed by sunlight that makes its soft tones seem blinding."
I visualized all the beautiful sights I had perceived, and how blessed I was to have been able to.
"Blue is the color of the waves of the sea, of the gushing waterfalls, of the pristine lakes that haven't been tampered by human hands. It's the shade of the corals on the ocean floor, home to shoals of fish. It's the color of the butterfly that settled on the fragile petals of the flowers we grow. It's the color of the starfish we almost stepped on when we were roaming about in the beach."
She settled back, sated. "That was nice," she said, a wide smile across her face. "Now describe pink. It's my sister's favorite color, but she can never depict it to me."
These words made me inexplicably sad. Her sister was too young.
"Pink... it's a color most people associate with girls. It's a hue of the azaleas and tulips that you smell, whenever we take a stroll into the garden. It's the vibrant shade of the flamingos you heard splashing about on the other side of the lake. It's the color of the sour guava fruit you ate yesterday- a rather dull shade, but still pink."
Once again, she seemed satisfied. But I wasn't.
"Your other senses can see for you, remember that," I told her, dubious.
"Yes, I know that. How else do I envision whatever you illustrate to me? I know that vision and myself are incongruous, but you can never know. Describe orange."
Sighing, I continued. "It's the hue that the sun imparts to the sky at sunrise and sunset. It's the coloration of leaves in autumn. Its..."
She let me speak uninterrupted for hours, but I couldn't be wholehearted.
I wished I could give her more. I was in the dark, and so was she.