Rita Puddu by Henri Cartier-BressonInspired

 Mallarme, Valery, Verlaine, Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Rilke

You, the rainmaker and the rainer,

and I the one who feels the wind on my face;

treacherous, aggressive.

Halfway up the top,

the road did not stop.

But I stopped. The rain drops

falling on my face

intensely,

and I

did not want them to stop. And I stopped

to catch up with those gone far ahead.

Sole Ponce OliverInspired by Henri Cartier-Bresson 9cMa1rfc5h6 l75 at 6:19coe4 AM · Henk Jonker, Volendam, The Netherlands, 1947.

 In the summer sky

the lake overflew.

The water was rising high.

The cold winds blew.

She raised herself on the tips of her toes

The washing she had brought to dry

was just pinned and fastened to the line

and the mad wind came with a tiding from afar,

"I'm coming; I'm coming, Fasten your hopes and dreams."

The clothes she had hung were swollen with joy,

simple and direct like the word of God,

and as the wind entered them

they were out to break into a swing

and leap to the sky.

Thousands of swallows broke their cage,

and the sun came out of the fog and the storm.

Sushama Karnik.

07 /03/2022

Sole Ponce OliverInspired by Henri Cartier-Bresson

9cMa1rfc5h6 l75 at 6:19coe4 AM  · 

C

Narcissa

 On a moonlit night

I buried the Narcissa,

the intimate part

of the story of ME.

The spirit I could not placate,

the reveries I could not complete

Here I want them to rest

on a day to come, they may rise.

Good bye Narcissa,

my unborn child,

my deathless being,

I must not grieve.

You are resurgent,

the overreaching Metaphor

which cannot be contained

I know, you will not lie low.

the Moon will keep a vigil over you.

In the restless hours you will sleep past the mind,

You will find your home

in the cave of the Moon.

Here I aspire to save

Narcissa, the alchemy of the self

resistance to those

who take it as a challenge to disambiguate.

Sushama Karnik.

El Poeta CarkT666\m/

MatrfchS up7o83, n2o902hgdcfa1  · 

“Put off, if you will, your lamp; I will know your darkness, and love it.”

-Rabindranath Tagore.

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To be sent to Notion Press

 The Sunshine , Storms, and Peace

The feel of the sand, crisp and warm,

slipping out of your fingers,

slightly hurting, strangely soft,

the sea watching you like a gallant lover,

from a distance, prudently,

like an ill-tempered man calmed down

in the sudden realisation of love,

all this and more, awaits in life,

an open beach to explore

waves, the rains, the sunshine, storms and peace.

I want these stories to evolve in the reader's mind as he/she walks away taking with them the memories of moments they will have shared with these characters. Let them, in their happiness and sadness recall those shared experiences like the feel of sand slipping out of their fingers, slightly hurting, strangely soft. At such moments, let the ill-tempered man or woman who might be troubling them inside, calm down in the sudden realization of love. Life is an open beach to explore waves, the rains, the sunshine, storms and peace.

 Like a field of saffron the morning shines.

and everything falls in place when the sun smiles.

Mountains and hills,

rivers, deluge and storms

these are but the dreams seen.

in the nights of uneasy calm.

Something breaks

without a sound

But the heart,

this ever alert,

quick to pick the slightest note

of dissonance in the air,

is quick also to bounce back

when the change occurs.

Seeds and pollens,

saffron fields,

the colours of violet and mauve

swing, sway, and dance in the wind..

Sushama Karnik.

21 Feb.2022

Gabriel Pacheco, 1973 Surrealist Painter| tutt Art @pittura

 This wood, these tall streaks of trees,

not the place I intended to go.

This hour of dawn,

the flock of birds sweeping across,

this silent weeping in the air of leaves

force me to stop and change the course.

Far away from the chosen goal

I stand bewitched'

Arrested, I cannot turn around.

Places like dreams, unforeseen,

are found when half-awake,

or half in sleep.

Some truths are found

on a mistaken road.

They ask you to spare a moment,

take a look at the place, the signs.

Swept in the wind, the fleeting signs.

Halt, pick up and save them.

Searched, found once long ago,

and then lost without a trace.

Beware,; you have found them back by serendipity.

Do not let them go again.

Sushama Karnik. 13 Feb. 22

C

 This wood, these tall streaks of trees,

not the place I intended to go.

This hour of dawn,

the flock of birds sweeping across,

this silent weeping in the air of leaves

force me to stop and change the course.

Far away from the chosen goal

I stand bewitched'

Arrested, I cannot turn around.

Places like dreams, unforeseen,

are found when half-awake,

or half in sleep.

Some truths are found

on a mistaken road.

They ask you to spare a moment,

take a look at the place, the signs.

Swept in the wind, the fleeting signs.

Halt, pick up and save them.

Searched, found once long ago,

and then lost without a trace.

Beware,; you have found them back by serendipity.

Do not let them go again.

Sushama Karnik. 13 Feb. 22