Francoise on 'The Sage had walked Through The Day'

 Françoise Dhulesia

Embracing the universe in the immensity of the ocean, there, stands the poetess, the daughter of the sea! A beautiful visual scene, whose abstract beauty emotionally overpowers the mind, develops in my mind, the evocation of a long-waited for revelation.

 A winter evening in wilderness,

and the sky had taken the colours of flame.

Who knows from where the sparks flew,

from the twilight that showed up in the sky

or the campfire that burnt steadily before the farmer's eye. And for sure, the plant with fiery blossom was the miracle born of Twilight in the sky.

Sushama Karnik

Waiting for

 Waiting for ....

The rain that is far in time yet.

It's not rain you hear; it's just the crow tampering with

the window pane. Leave the newspaper aside;

it's not me

whispering the news

of the arrival of something

you were never waiting for.

Leave the book aside;

It's not

the epitome of life

which we never lived.

Do not water that plant in the window;

it's not the seed sewn

in the hope of seeing a blooming tree.

And yet

why not go on dreaming so?

One day the dreams might all come true.

 पासवर्ड

सुबह एक ऐसा घर है जो कभी था ही नहीं;

यह उन यादों की चाहत है जो उड़ गईं;

पहेलियों का रहस्य जो अनसुलझा रह गया;

वे सभी सुबह की ठंडी और दर्दनाक हवा के साथ लौटते हैं

फरवरी की कड़कड़ाती ठंड में..

ये वे पासवर्ड हैं जिन्हें मैंने अक्सर सहेजा है

और उन्हें बहुत गहराई तक नीचे धकेल दिया

और उन जगहों पर टटोलता रहा जहां ऐसा कभी नहीं होना था।

अफ़सोस कि हम सबसे क़ीमती चीज़ों को कितने प्रकार के रूप देते हैं,

और जब हमें उनकी सबसे अधिक आवश्यकता होती है तब वे कभी नहीं मिलते।

Passwords

The morning is a home that never was;

a longing for the memories that flew away;

the mystery of the riddles that remained unsolved;

they all return with the cold and callous morning breeze

in the biting cold of February..

They are the password I saved too often

And stowed away too deep 

and fumbled in the places where it was never to be.

Alas the multiple forms we give to the most treasured things,

and never find when we need them most.

 Love the medley of vibrant homes waking to the touch of the early sun. Here the wheel of time turns, there a tunnel and a bridge. Thatched roofs waiting for some rain, and a man walking his way ponderously. Grass grows between the eaves merrily and listens to every sound the mornings bring. The village on the brink of a quiet dream.

Daniele Chany updated her cover photo.

  · 

My-Friend-Loves-to-Paint-Happy-Vibrant-Houses-Pavel Mitkov,

Van Gogh's seascape

 Dappled grey hides the green of the waves,

restless under the night screen.

A dawn awakes like the soil nearer to the line of horizon

cracked by the drifting summer lights.

A boat nearer to the horizon

lures the two trailing behind

with a vision of the sea calmer yet

than what they know

of the sea that will not let go

of the night that rocks them

on the dappled grey clouded

with uncertainty

of the weather and the moods of the sea. All they know is they must follow the one who has braved the waves

and is nearing the day far away,

a red signature on the dappled green.

Sushama Karnik.

GOOGLE.COM

Title: Vincent van Gogh - Seascape near Les Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer ...

 Leaves of autumn,

peacock feathers,

the ones

who touched your life briefly,

and scattered with the wind and gone.

The swarms of bees that pushed aside

the plethora of leaves,

gathered the essence and flew

to their hermit homes.

All the heads which turned away,

the sight of them

lost among crowds

anxiously waiting for the fast train.

I am an epitome of all.

Life happens on the edge

where all the possible fills in a vial and takes shape

beyond the border that divides

and finally unites..

Sushama Karnik to Sarah Heger.

Francoise on "Do not sow your seeds in fallow lands"

 Françoise Dhulesia

Not sure I understood the poem well, yet here is my interpretation.

First the religious, metaphorical context of the Bible, whose words I approximately remember in French: "Défrichez- vous un champ nouveau et ne semez plus parmi les épines [...]", stroke me.

In the biblical context, God exorts "the hypocrites" to sow in a purified land.

Definitely, it is easy to establish a connection with the geo political context of a horrible war that keeps us worried and devastated.

Beyond this context, so subtly expressed here through hints, clues and references all along the text, I see something else, and here I may be extrapolating. Nevertheless, here is my understanding, very figuratively so.

I see the poet expressing some despair or sadness at realizing his/ her work's not always flowering as he/ she would loved to, in a world where everything is going fast, and where readers do not take the time to ponder, to stop, and read in depth. Happily, some of these readers, compared to some swans like to stop and bring with them these poetic texts to read in peace across the continents, to some shores the poet/-ess will never know. Aren't the mission and hope of the poet/-ess to sow the seeds of hope and love and share them with the world?

 A lone camel camouflaged in desert sands,

and a lone tree that casts no shadow.

The sand sometimes can be heard singing a strange melody

that can be felt but cannot be heard.

The naked eye sees the naked sky

that wears no clouds this day of summer.

Everything is standing in a frozen stance

though there no sign of winter to speak of.

The melody that the desert hums and the wind with the sand carries far

will reach you in your sleep and you will recall

someone who was there long ago writing your name in the sand.

Sushama Karnik.

The picture is the art-work of my MeWe friend Lise Wal.

PINTEREST.COM

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 The Rain, An Abstraction Of The Mind.

The rain and you! Your soul is the rain ,

 water running, sliding on the slopes, 

gurgling, laughing, carrying the scent of the earth

 with the rain in the pores of the being,

 and the colours of green,

 and yellow, the gold of the fallen leaves, 

the grey and the blue of summer's glimpse, 

furtively dancing in the pools and puddles,

 and at the back of your mind somewhere, 

emerging like a silhouette taking a different life,

 shaped by the unending rain that rains in the heart, 

of the two huddled under a love that hugs 

the two walking under an umbrella strongly clutched

in the gusts of the stormy wind.

Sushama Karnik.

 Behind the red hot wall her eyes shine, two orbs tightly gripping two black marbles and a pair of stars. What fascinates her I do not know. But she is certainly not in a mind to follow that thing. This night has cast a magic on all and she is just a cat of a witch.

 Words cease

Body ceases

Mind is withdrawing

On its own.

What is left

Is the light

Seen by those

Who know.

Suma Ro'07-02-2024

 I owe it to you, my dear sister who passed away 

far in the land of American dreams. 

I owe it to you that I could not be with you.

on the last leg of your journey there. 

I owe it to you who watched over my crossing the threshold

from childhood dreams to reality

when my heart quivered with an unknown fear

you gently brought me, with a firm hand

to face the facts of life I could not have known

but for your elderly guidance ,

next only to mother's firm grip on reality.

The moments of intimacy when we shared the knowledge deep in the vaults

like the two mermaids sitting on a rock.

I wonder now if my thoughts of you reach you and make sense

as they did before

when we took every experience of life 

to the brass tacks, and yet saw the light shining in the dark.

May everlasting peace be yours now

you who have gone beyond the rapture and the grief which life brings.