Friday, December 27, 2019

Jun 3, 2016
Whimsical Moon
On one of the nights
the wind will barge in your dream.
The curtains fly and elephants will walk
gently upon the roofs.
Angels will guard your sleep
and lift you high, and higher still
till you will drift
into the heart of the moon.
Sushama Karnik (c)


 Photo album: Арт
Елена Юшина
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Delicate porcelain, a vessel of choice.
a little bit of honey, a little bit of lime,
peace at heart and on the lips a smile
this is all that it takes to make tea divine.
Thank you for the image @Milan Lakić


 Photo album: црно - беле
Thing Finder - Edinburgh Café by Dieter Krehbiel
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Tuesday, December 24, 2019

If you happen to see me walking in the rain
leaving the highways and seeking the quiet lane,
know that it is to seek,
you brushing past the insane bloom
out of season, out of the beaten path,
lingering to console the saddest of the laggards
the season's last rose.
The first of the season's rains, the first bloom, the first moon have always gained a place.
I try hard to recall
the last of the rains, of the season last,
the grooves it left in my path
before the sunshine wiped them away.





foto - Pinterest- Rainy day
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Monday, December 23, 2019

Pensive and silent is the sea at night;
by the day it was full of rage.
The boats that rocked and the winds that swayed the masts
were like images seen in a dream.
Now the sea is calm
like a thought that wandered and came back tired
to feel its own sound, the whistle of the restless gale.
Here on the shore she would always come
to spend some moments in the thought,
now audible in the starlight and the quiet sea.
Thinking in the presence of the sea
is not a matter of being lonely and sad;
it's a matter of choice,
a matter of feeling
what the sea would feel
when a solitary heron would sail on the wings of some massive cloud
and come to watch with solicitude
the woman and the sea, and the deep calm.
Sushama Karnik  Image: Courtesy Souheil Ghammachi
Image and inspiration courtesy Souheil Ghammachi


I think about you all day long.
And the night I rethink.
Thinking about you is not a matter of loneliness.
It is a matter of feeling  
(Translated from Portuguese)
Penso em você o dia todo.
E a noite volto a repensar
Pensar em você nāo é uma questāo de solidāo.
É uma questāo de sentir.
-Source: tanou123, paintedhorse23
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Tuesday, December 10, 2019


I go berserk on losing a thing.
It doesn't matter what.
Order scares me,
but so does the chaos!
I seek order most of the times,
and the more the seeking,
the more is the fear of falling into chaos.
I have a reputation built by now
for losing the things if placed in my custody.
The things lost, haunt my memory.
They escape the bounds of materiality.
Obsessions have no real cord,
and yet they bind you to the thing that has gone out of the reach.
The thing has a smell, an aroma, a feel,
like a book you loved and it got misplaced,
and the duplicate will not do.
In the kinds of madness that come with losing a book,
the one that haunts you when you misplace a thing is far worse.
Rummage through the familiar places where you hide the keys,
and for days on end, the thing can't be found,
and it doesn't go into oblivion either.
With the passage of time I have been sitting on a mountain
of things lost and never found.

Sushama Karnik
17 June, 2017
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