Pieces of dice, and playing cards

found casually lying on an old-fashioned chair

and a wall-hanging portraying the face of a child,

close to the chair a tripod with a camera,

the corner of the room, dusky dark,

though the day out there is not yet dark.

The scenario of an artist's den,

a statement upon the contents of art.

After aeons the door opens and a raven cries

with a piercing note to draw attention to

the obvious side of a forgotten art

that used the intuition with an uncanny precision

of the dice in the hands of a gambler, and the player of cards,

and the third eye of the cameraman hiding long behind a dark screen and a dark room

until the picture emerged.

Sushama Karnik.

Karine Kergroac'h

  · 

DICE PART...

Read, write and dream...

 A scroll , a pause for time to stop

at an assemblage

of things which live

incarnating passion, warmth and care,

asking me to come and share the glimpses

of antiquity.

"Read, write and dream," the voice calls out

as if we have known with a certainty

each other's heart,

I shall read

those papers lying in a sweet disorder

on the table from a long gone antiquity,

a tale of a time when someone had searched deep into the secrets

slumbering in the heart of time.

The voice does not stop;

it goes on

imploring,

"Write and dream..."

And I say, awakening to desires,

vaults opening in response

to the keyword uttered casually

in the midst of the disorder , a frenzied passion

pursued in half,

the rest half waiting for a hand to pick up

the note in the margin,

"Step in; take over

in the kinship of kindred spirit,

this world and its vibrancy."

Oh the Goddess of intuition and

the angel lost

of imagination,

grant me the power, the strength to respond and complete what someone left,

and asking in a playful voice,

"Read, write, and dream..."

Sushama Karnik.

Thanks for the image : Karine Kergroac'h.

Karine Kergroac'h

  · 

Read, write, dream ...

  · 

See original

  · 

 Warm sand stuck to her soles ; the highlight, the focal point, of the day,

and the sea turned on to touch her feet again and yet again.

The wind comes running to brush past her hair and whistles upon the wave

a song that casts a spell. The white surf and her snow white apparel

are so much alike that you cannot tell one from the other.

That's the Muse for the poet's song whom the poet follows on a butterfly wing.

Sushama Karnik.

Tips and toes in a glossy glow

 Tips and toes, in a glossy glow,

a candle the autumn lights,

the rebel season that defies age,

and teaches the trees to celebrate.

The fall is the season of rising again,

brushing off the dust in the wind and air,

the season heavy with the load of pollen,

the air with the scent of of the clouds.

The full moon emerges like Rembrandt's figure

shimmering on the backdrop of night.

Drop off to sleep on the moonlit pillow,

and lie on the bed as if it's a meadow

touching the horizon marked by hills.

These golden leaves will fall in dreams

like stars of heaven singing hymns.

Say adieu to all doubts and

trustfully fall in the arms of sleep..

Sushama Karnik.

Thanks for the image György

György Fülöp

perodSnsot0a56c6h3l Nmf40oe911r49h04,2512lh b4mv52gl1h49e37a  · 

Autumn impressions .

#autumn #bokeh #colorful

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4Françoise Dhulesia, Tushar Deshpande and 2 others

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Françoise Dhulesia

A magnificent two voiced celebration of autumn, whose uniqueness is highlighted in the paradoxical vision of falling and raising ("The fall is the season of rising again"). The poem is therefore the evocation of that particular moment of the year when nature shows us the light, soothes the soul and opens the path to serenity.

A wonderful poem indeed, luminous like the leaves photographed.

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