The Candle In Her Eyes

The eyes, burning calm on the midnight of lamps,

disembarked from the flow, behold the night unveil

like a candle in the wind,

defiant,

caught in the backwaters of the familiar sea,

something hit the waters without a wave or a ripple.

The candle in her eyes burnt steady.

Sushama Karnik

 Dainty, crisp and witty, the woman

stares at the crystal green,

the window half closing and half revealing

what was aimed and what was gained.

A body still supple and lean and a mind still scintillating.

The stars and the sky are best revealed

when watched from a window, crystal green.

Sushama Karnik.

Thanks for the image Karine Kergroac'h

Billede: Charles Sprague Pearce - Archetron, The Free Social Encyclopedia

 Some days are there when nothing works

Despite the meticulous planning

an unforeseen error has to happen!

The youngest sibling had volunteered

to see through it all and dreamt of a perfect time out

by the sea and everything was taken care of.

What went wrong? Something missing?

The sisters wait patiently and

let her work it out. "Patience", they seem to say.

But the suspense is writ large on their faces.

I can understand the panic in the sibling's heart.

A moment of Deja vu for me.

I was there some day and seen it all.

Sushama Karnik.

Image charles sprague pearce: solitude

Billede: Charles Sprague Pearce - Archetron, The Free Social Encyclopedia

 कितनी दूरियों से कितनी बार

कितनी डगमग नावों में बैठ कर

मैं तुम्हारी ओर आया हूँ

ओ मेरी छोटी-सी ज्योति!

कभी कुहासे में तुम्हें न देखता भी

पर कुहासे की ही छोटी-सी रुपहली झलमल में

पहचानता हुआ तुम्हारा ही प्रभा-मंडल।

कितनी बार मैं,

धीर, आश्वस्त, अक्लांत—

ओ मेरे अनबुझे सत्य! कितनी बार...

और कितनी बार कितने जगमग जहाज़

मुझे खींच कर ले गये हैं कितनी दूर

किन पराए देशों की बेदर्द हवाओं में

जहाँ नंगे अंधेरों को

और भी उघाड़ता रहता है

एक नंगा, तीखा, निर्मम प्रकाश—

जिसमें कोई प्रभा-मंडल नहीं बनते

केवल चौंधियाते हैं तथ्य, तथ्य—तथ्य—

सत्य नहीं, अंतहीन सच्चाइयाँ...

कितनी बार मुझे

खिन्न, विकल, संत्रस्त—

कितनी बार!

How often having covered distances,

in derelict boats

have I travelled to come to you,

There were times when the fog hid you from my view

but within the fog was a shimmering light,

a light that did not dim,

and in that light I would know the aura that was only you.

How often, I, steady, assured, never tired,

O my light, my truth that would never be put out;

And how often, how many tall ships, dazzling me with their lights

lured me far away to the inclement climates of foreign lands

the naked darkness of which was all the more exposed by

a naked, hurting, alien light,

a light that had no place for auras,

a light which displayed only blinding facts,

facts, facts, and nothing but facts, but never the truth!

Never the truth, only endless realities

which dazzled me , o so often!

And made me sad, distraught, restless...

O how often!

 Once, I was listening to a melody and I got to the bottom of my heart,

I looked up into the sky and saw a single cloud in rainbow colors.

Suma Ro 10 Sept. 2022 

 I opened my window: a voice entered:

Clear, soft, somewhat choppy.

She wanted to stay...

Since then, well established,

She makes the words sing

And captivates my soul...

She addresses the sea,

Knows how to charm the moon,

And dance before my eyes...

O voice, I say to her,

Take me to the land of jasmine!

I would stop there...

I like voices

The ones I know

And the ones I guess...

There is one voice, precious,

Far and so close at the same time,

Wild and tender too...

She is Light,

the daughter of rhythm and image.

Her name is Harmony.

O voice, I say to her,

Take me to the land of jasmine!

I would stop there...

GOOGLE.COM

Image: The Symbolism of Jasmine Flowers (Love & Beauty)

Found on Google from symbolismandmetaphor.com

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 Some mornings are marked in the calendar.

A dusty barren walkway

trodden everyday.

The night had nurtured seeds silently

and the morning sun watched the night depart.

Small sprouts surfaced by the time,

and the night did not know.

But the ever vigilant sun noticed.

The seedlings danced with the wind

carrying in their heart the secret the night never knew.

They were the offspring of darkness and the light.

 My last motif is the window. A gateway to lives and people, 

to all that exists in fragmentation. , 

An endless sea, and the infinite sky that overhangs and follows,

and me like a tired carpenter,

mending, replacing,

putting together

the broken parts.

to not let the deluge break into me.

Filling in the gaps with stitches.

I keep myself busy

because one day they are to come through the window

the sky and the sea

I am indecisive whether to let them in

or barricade 

my precarious fragile existence.

On a calm rainy day it changes. 

The wall between me and the world is sawed off. 

The sea and the sky invade,

unannounced.

 Morning! Reflections.

Swirling tides. Falling off.

The sunrise

Haze in the midst of light. 

Morning. I want to sleep, lest this mirage slip in the sands.

Rolling shadows.

A choppy sea, felt from the windows of a submarine.

No bird sings.

A calm that descends 

and closes the wind. 

 Venus in the sky of a moonless night,

a swan in a shimmering lake of dawn,

single on the occult path strewn with specks of light,

the stillness of the mist in a lake without a ripple,

she comes with the dawn, and melts

with the coming of the sun.

For more than a quarter of a year

the Venus shines in the east

only to disappear for long,

and comes back with opulence

once again in the west.

She resonates with lovers.

Her reverberations fall on earth

and brighten her occult path.

As like an angel cursed

she stays for a borrowed interval of time

tossing her mystical rays on the evening sky

in waves of orange, blue and mauve

in the arms of the darkness waiting at the end of the sky.

When the evening arrives, I pray,

: Let the light of Venus stay.

There are innumerable pages yet to be written;

they are fair and blank.

Venus shine; be not dim.

Fear not, faint not, hold up

the lamp which we can dimly see.

Show us beauty, show us sense.

Venus, shine and spread your rays.

Sushama Karnik

May 2020

 Like a jettisoned cargo the mountain let go

the turbulence of water.

Was it too much of a load for the mountain to carry?

And the water leaped in an ecstasy.

All around the edges of the fall were trees and the moss.

Even in that tremendous leap was the sound

of a prelude to a hymn;

a rapid fall and the slowest of of the melodies

that only a waterfall knows how to sing!

And the valley felt the thrill .

A tiger at night, a lone antelope, wolves and jackals

all stood aghast. Oh the sound of water

falling in the valley, sublime and awesome

in the self-same moment of time!

Sushama Karnik.

02/04/2022

Thanks for the image Tighe

Tighe O'Donoghue Ross

 An invisible hand that paints my life;

my mornings savour the taste of the coffee 

being poured sweetly with music in my mug. 

My window opens instantly with no password or a key. 

Watching the world flow beyond the mist gathered on the glass 

and feeling the warmth of the mist 

I gather in my heart the blending of the colour of my coffee 

and the tingling sensation of grey world out in the morning rush. 

Come and share with me once my bitter sweet coffee inside the room 

and beyond the glass of the window pane 

The world tinged with the shades of gray.

Sushama Karnik