#9. Hiraeth

There’s a world out there

somewhere, in a time beyond my reach

where i can breathe air

free of words of words of deceit floating in it

only the sweet smell of flowers and petrichor,

drink waster so clear that

I can count every grain of gravel at the bottom,

look up at the night sky

and finally believe that there really are

an infinite number of stars.

If there’s a life after this

my only wish is to experience purity

in me and my people.

These prompts, The New Renaissance, were created by Tyler Kent White and Amanda Torroni, and I am attempting these with Parvathi over at Queen Talks.


#9. Black Canvas

Stargazing is not

fun. You sit for hours and

hours, straining your

neck and your eyes dilating to

adjust to the darkness and

then to the stars, far

far away. More than that, the

stars are a painful

reminder of you. That some

thing so brilliant is right

in front of you, yet

unreachable. No question

of giving up though.

I missed one! I’ll try catching up real soon!

This is the Spring Palette for the Heart, curated by Parvathi and Me.

#25. Wish you were here

The first time you took me out

of the city,

out of the “light pollution”, as you call it,

my mouth hung open.

It was a gateway to heaven.

I didn’t move my eyes away from the stars.

I didn’t blink,

for i feared that they would disappear.

But I held your hand, firmly,

and i didn’t have to say it,

but I squeezed your hand,

thank you.

And for once,

I didn’t have to close my eyes

and wish for you to

be with me.

#14. Where We Hide the Wild Things

The pink stripe in her hair,

Is the same shade as my face turns,

when I see her

baring her soul

to me.

And no one else,

under the blanket of stars

with the moon as the bed light

and the sound of the waves

lapping against the rocks

her lullaby.

Well, this was sort. It was inspired by two of my romantic shorts(-ish), Under the Starts, Him and Her. It’s of two parts, part one: Him and part two :Her. Tell me how you like it or not!

#10: The waltz at midnight

I’ll try making this a happy one.

lighthouse at night

“Hey,” you whisper to me,

“I have to show you something.”

I open my eyes, slowly,

adjusting to the darkness,

and to the shape kneeling by my bedside.

I can see the mischievous glint in your eye

as you eye me putting on some warm clothes. 

We drive;

we drive so far that it would’ve been sunrise,

but when you said, “We’re here.”  

it was still dark. 

You held my hand

And led me through a maze of stairs 

before reaching a door. 

You smiled that mischievous smile

which promised me a wonderful time.

And it sure did, because

When you opened the door, 

the sky was infinite. 

The stars were spilled out like a packet of silver glitter

and the moon forgot that there was a party

and the sound of the sea vibrated through my bones

and to you.

As if it wasn’t perfect already,

you took my hand, placed it on your shoulder,

took the other in your hand,

while your other hand rested on my hips. 

You whispered, “Happy birthday,”

against my mouth, so soft that I could barely hear it,

and we began to sway,

to the sound of the water lapping against the rocks. 

To the sound of the wind rustling the trees. 

To the sound that the stars made, 

heard by everyone who wants to listen.

Growing up and apart

There was this little boy living near the sea, who was all of 8 years old, with sandy hair and eyes changing into colors of the sea: dark green when he was angry; pale, grey-green when he was calm. He was having his first swimming lessons from his father in the sea when I first noticed him. I wondered how I’d missed noticing him. I’m always looking for new recruits, or rather, ambassadors of Mother Nature, and here is this kid whom I’ve missed for eight years. So, I decided to confront him.

Since water was his first contact with earth, I sent my best fish to talk to him. Any normal kid would’ve been very scared of a talking fish, but instead, this kid happily chatted with him and it honestly shook me. I had one of the worst flares in several millennia. Not only did he chat with him, the kid was so enthusiastic and happy that my fish created a link between all him and all the things he loved, so that he could mentally chat with everyone and everything. This has never happened. It was forbidden, but my fish had broken the rules and had gotten away with it anyway (with the help of the kid).

As the years passed by, all of my colleagues took an opportunity to turn this kid into a kind and compassionate young man. But it didn’t take hard work. He was a natural. Just like the other girl across the planet. The boy had love for Mother Nature in his blood. He was no vegetarian; but that didn’t stop him from loving animals.He chatted with me like we were old buddies. He respected me and often reminded that as harsh as I can be, without me, the Planet couldn’t exist. He helped me lift my spirits up when I was low, which is almost everyday, and also everyone else’s. He also lovingly named my Captain Cloud as Papa Cloud. He went on to becoming a professional surfer in his late teens, found the love of his life, and is now in college. He is quite the adventurer!

Through all these years, all the link that he had with the creatures of Nature, big and small, has suddenly seemed to have vanished. He doesn’t speak to animals, or Water, or Sand, or the Sky, or the Clouds, or the Stars, or even me. But nevertheless, whatever my colleagues and I had taken him through his years of growing up has stayed with him. That’s what’s really important. He’s learned to respect Nature and fight for it, fight for it as if She’s his own, and he’s passed that message down to several other kids. I couldn’t be prouder.