suntannedapples: March 2019

Saturday, March 30, 2019

Flowers,. shadows, the morning sun,
a tea sipped in tranquility.
Things which the sun brushes past
bristle and raise their voice.
There is a clean plug-point at the bottom
but nothing is plugged in there.
It's a wise thing to do
to stay unplugged
when the sun is inviting you to tea.

Mar 14 2019

Originally shared by Tanya Dimitrova

Friday, March 29, 2019

Finally you came, but came to say, "Good bye"
The passage of the night came to an end
and the morning was scheduled for departure.
The paper boats you taught me to build
were set to float in the rivers of many lands.
I learnt how origami is a sublime art
when we put a dash of colors
and bring to perfection a delicate art.
You taught me also not to cling to the art.
With every craft that was accomplished well
you taught me not to think of these as tasks,
but at the end of each lesson came the erasure.
It was necessary to wipe off the slate and leave it clean
for a new lesson to begin.

Sunday, March 24, 2019

TIME ALONE KNOWS
Standing on the verge of precipice,the girl in white, the man in black,
she, lost in dreams, he in angst.
Her thoughts were flowing with the beloved river,
thoughts of spring, togetherness of summer,
snow white like the dress she wore, virginal, pure and coyly sweet.
He in his black suit, formidable,dark,
deceptively strong, arms folded across his chest,
guarding against the absurdity
of the war that attacked on every front,
the battles they fought in the smaller world
of the diurnal rounds of anxiety.
A boat sailed across the quiet river
like a papercraft of her dreams.
He like a being from another world was thinking of the day he had to plan
before the war called him to battle.
And the year was 1919, when imperial forces ruled the day.
Time alone knows what happened to them

With the tide the logs
severed from the tree
come and swim with the waves,
briefly touch and move away.
Another tide another wave,
a lifetime lived and set away.

Sushama Karnik
Aug 11, 2016

Image : Courtesy Sall

Originally shared by Sall
Nils Dardel (Swedish, 1888-1943) Young Man in Black, Girl in White, 1919

Originally shared by Sall

 Nils Dardel (Swedish, 1888-1943) Young Man in Black, Girl in White, 1919

That red hot speck
at the end of the cigar,
burning like a heart,
estranged,
you, a darkness
defined by streaks of light around your face,
a moment ago,
lost , watching the line of smoke,
wispy, tall, merging with the dark,
and now,
a fixation on the lengthening line of ash
gathering steadily at the close end,
closing in on you.
Do not, do not stare
at the burnt out end of the cigar.
Call me , call me once again.
I will come and clear the ash
gathered in the ash tray all through the night
.
Let this cigar not be a cigar,
but the torch we carried all along,
a baton passed from hand to hand.
We need to burn again like a torch.
Let millions of fireflies arise,
and glow like stars from this torch.

May 20, 2016

Originally shared by Tanya Dimitrova

Monday, March 18, 2019

With not a shadow of a doubt in our mind,
we sailed like ships towards the rising sun.
Three shadows followed us faithfully behind,
It was the sun and us on the sand and the golden urn.
Deep in the distance were children bathing,
and their bodies slowly turned into specks of sand.
Our determination that day was so strong;
we could as well have walked to cross the sea.

Sushama Karnik
July 13, 2018

Image credit courtesy +Leda L Freitas

Originally shared by Leda L Freitas - 1 comment

TIMOTHY EASTON-BEACH WALK🎨

Saturday, March 16, 2019

With a look of being half-asleep
with the steam of the coffee and dreams
rising before the eye,
I have dreamed of things
with a book in my hand
and I know
you have dreamed them too.

I have dreamed of winters when
The only gold that
shines on the road is
a patch of iridescence in the gloom
of the bleak grey
of the bare winter trees who are
touched by the sun lightly.

On a lovely misty day, I know,
everything welcomes the mist.
its coolness soothes the eye,
the reflections in the waters still;
the winter spreads a blanket
on all that needs a sleep.

Holding on to the sun
a little patch of a dancing child of light,
a stray sunbeam,
lost, in panic,
frantically looking for the parent sun
as it wandered endlessly;
I have seen that too.
Deep into the carnival of grey dusk,
and soon having lost the track of the parent sun,
a strange connection between the loss of a way and bewilderment;
I have seen that too.
How the baby sunbeam then holds my hand with trust;
I have known that too

Sushama Karnik

Image Credit: Darlene Walsh

Originally shared by Darlene Walsh - 3 comments

A book day..

Friday, March 15, 2019

The spring starts with a profusion of leaves,
the green wave spreads like an ink spilled on earth,
the grace the rains bring
and stir the springs of seeds
lying dormant under the quilt.

Then suddenly a bud appears
with no signal of its tiny step.
And one by one they come,
the heralds of the dawn of the season's change, the buds in a prolific bloom.

And before the eye can recognize
the invasion of love, a wave of conquest
that comes with gust of the wind,
and watch in surprise the baffling burst of the energy of flowers,
there is a new batch of buds coming behind,
waves and waves of goodly prayers
and the heaven bows down to love.

Sushama Karnik
July 27, 2015
Image Courtesy Sogyal Rinpoche

Originally shared by Sogyal Rinpoche

Each time the losses and deceptions of life teach us about impermanence, they bring us closer to the truth. When you fall from a great height, there is only one possible place to land: on the ground—the ground of truth. And if you have the understanding that comes from spiritual practice, then falling is in no way a disaster, but the discovery of an inner refuge.

Like angels hovering over the earth
you watch, entranced
an alien world
reflected on the screen
where the world around and above is seen
in the virtual model of reality.
You lie on bed as if it's a sky
from where you espy
a world of wonders in amazement and thrill.

Oct 10, 2015

Originally shared by Sushama Karnik

TIME WILL PASS, MEMORIES WILL FADE , FEELINGS WILL CHANGE, PEOPLE WILL LEAVE, BUT THE HEART WILL NEVER FORGET.

Wonderful Evening My Friends