The clearing

The clearing

5 July 2020

Courtesy Fotolia

 

The sun was gone and the wind howled through the trees as she walked in the woods. She started wondering whether she should go back home or continue with her walk. She was concerned that it might start raining and she was not well prepared for it as she had gone out in shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt. Suddenly it started to rain just as if the weather wanted to enact her fears and she could feel the large drops of rain pelt on her skull and bare arms. In no time the rain had become a downpour and the already mossy path became muddy and slippery.

 

She looked hesitantly back at the path where she had come from. The shrubs seemed to have closed in on it and all she could see was green behind her. The slope she had come up was quite steep and it seemed a better option to just walk on until she reached the end of the walk rather than taking the chance of slipping down the slope. She drudged on, braving the falling rain and the howling wind which tugged at wisps of her hair and the bottom of her shorts sending them here and there. With the sun gone it was quite cold now and she started feeling her hands numbing by her sides as she continued to walk.

 

For some reason, the icy rain and the gloomy wind got to her nerves and she started wondering what would happen if she fell on the path as nobody else seemed to have ventured out on it. She started taking great care in her steps so as not to fall. The last thing she needed right now was a broken leg or worse still a broken hip. She wondered again if she should just slide down on her posterior the slope back to where she had started from. It would not be very elegant but even if there were someone to see her at this point, she felt like she could not care less. Yet at the same time something drove her to carry on her path.

 

She gritted her teeth and decided to brave her way to the top of the hill. The trees swayed under the effect of the wind and some of their branches whipped at her. Instead of dissuading her this somehow increased her resolve to reach the top and head bent she carried her resisting limbs forward. The rain poured down the back of her neck and her bra clung to her making her T-shirt twist uncomfortably around, but she just untangled it and carried on. She thought about how anyone who should cross her path would see her: a crazed middle-aged woman with her twisted T-shirt and skimpy shorts battling the weather and it made her laugh.

 

She lowered her head and toiled on again. Soon she could see the flattening of the path beyond and knew she was reaching the top of the hill. She found herself shortly in a clearing on the top and as she reached there, the rain stopped and slowly but surely the sun made a timid appearance. She raised her hands like a warrior above her head and she did feel rather like that, a totally victorious warrior. She filled her lungs with air and howled at the wind that had not stopped yet. The wind howled back at her as she laughed, filling her lungs again with the fresh, crisp air and offering her body to the sun that slowly dried it.

 

Seafret – Atlantis (Official Video)

The taste of ripe mangoes

The taste of ripe mangoes

4 July 2020

Courtesy quora.com

 

It used to be one of her favourite moments in childhood. They would sneak out of the house and run across the fields to the point where the mango groves began. They would hide at the extremity of the fields waiting to see if the guardian was there and if he wasn’t they would step into the grove and steal some ripe mangoes. It was usually a boy they called Thengai who used to climb the trees as he was used to climbing coconut trees and had a good foothold. His name Thengai which meant coconut came from not only because he climbed coconut trees but also because his hair combed down in a shell shape manner made the top of his head resemble a broken coconut shell.

 

Thengai would climb like a daredevil any tree in the mangrove and if the guardian was spotted he would be able to clamber down in no time often surpassing them as he ran towards the fields. Little did they know that the guardian always made a show of chasing them but slowed down if he got too close because he never actually meant to catch them. There would be no use indeed of catching them as the mangrove belonged to their family although they did not know it. In fact, almost all the lands around the houses up to the neighbouring city belonged to her family. Unaware of this, the children including her used to run like their life depended upon it, holding on tightly to the mangoes packed in their shirts or dresses, when the guardian chased them.

 

Later on, they would stop in the fields and put the mangoes together. They would then divide the ripest mangoes amongst them for eating on the spot and leave the greener ones for later. It was usually she who got the greener ones as her grandmother was very skilled at making mango chutney with the green mangoes. Once the bottles of chutney were ready, her grandmother would give her a basket of these to distribute around the neighbourhood. The neighbours respected and loved her grandmother not only because of this type of small kindness but also because she gave the lands to plough to the neighbours and only asked for a small share of the crops as compensation. People considered the grandmother as the main village benefactor.

 

She used to love going to the village and spending a part of the summer there during the summer break when her father did not yet have his holidays. It was all wonderful until that fated summer when everything had changed. She had not witnessed it herself but she often had nightmares about it and would wake up in the night trembling. For a long time after the incident, nobody had gone to steal mangoes from the mangrove. The villagers would talk about it in hushed tones when they thought the children were not around. Thengai had been riding the tractor of his father next to his older brother when he had slipped, and the tractor had mauled him before his brother could stop the giant wheels.

 

Some children had started going back to steal mangoes the next summer and one of the children had volunteered to take Thengai’s place as the picker. When they passed by her grandmother’s house she kept the door tightly shut and did not respond to their stage whispers calling her out. She could not bring herself to accompany them like she could not bring herself to eat ripe mangoes anymore. It was as if the mangoes’ ripe insides were like Thengai’s and for a long time the idea of eating them seemed repulsing. She also could not bring herself to distribute the mango chutney among the neighbours anymore and had grown sullener by the day. At the end of that following summer, her father decided to make her spend less time at her grandmother’s house.

 

Long after she had grown older and found out that the mangrove was theirs, she still would not accompany the children to the mangrove during the short breaks she was at her grandmother’s. She had started eating her grandmother’s chutney again, but nobody had offered her anymore ripe mangoes given her clear revulsion to these. One day, as she was walking through the fields, she found herself in front of the mangrove. The guardian was there and he seemed now a wizened old man. He looked at her and made as if he were going to chase her, but she laughed so he laughed too. He went towards a mango tree and reaching out pulled a ripe mango off the tree which he then offered her, slicing it in the middle. His face was wise and kind and she wondered how they could have ever felt afraid of him. She took the mango almost in a second state and bit into it. The taste of the ripe mango was heavenly as it mingled with her salty tears. She smiled up at the old guardian.

 

Kahlil Gibran – On death

Centuries of gifts

Centuries of gifts

13 June 2020

Courtesy pinterest.com

 

Walk with me

in meadows of green

I am witch

of the land

The time is but creeping sand

passing through fingers

 

Death lingers

on the land’s outskirts

Body hurts

as it breeds

swallows fears that it yet feeds

Dichotomy’s stance

 

The shining

Magic awoken

from my heart

to my hands

They give and don’t make demands

Centuries of gifts

 

Reading of the poem:

Antaeus – Kyrie

Of Love’s wilderness

Of Love’s wilderness

16 May 2020

Courtesy Stefan Gesell

 

 

Green foliage

Covering the ground

Seeking eye

Now spellbound

I breathe in the summer’s dew

Seasons brought anew

 

Clouds gather

High above in skies

They rumble

With the seed

Of water mingling with salt

Life breeds a new creed

 

Falling rain

Shimmering raindrops

On my head

They sparkle

They point to a new cycle

Of Love’s wilderness

 

Reading of the poem:

Sam Smith – Fire on Fire

Solid ground denied

Solid ground denied

12 May 2020

Courtesy Stefan Gesell

 

 

North and South battle

Irreconcilable straits

Conflict in bosom

 

Flourishing in reed

Graceful attire of heart

Swaying to the rhythm

 

Solid ground denied

My soul like a wild gypsy

Yearning for travel

 

 

Written in the context of Ronovan Writes #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge 305 using conflict and gypsy. Rules and pingback here

Reading of the poem:

Sam Myers – I Got The Blues

The Shaman Tales 9 : the mutation

The Shaman Tales 9 : the mutation

8 May 2020

Courtesy Christian Schloe

The spell seemed to have worked. It was sent out in the collective consciousness as she knew it needed to be sent out in the open. It was more effective with being read and she knew that she had to inspire herself three years ago from then. She had slid into the timeloop during her altered state of consciousness and inspired herself back in 2017. She had then watched as she created the poem that would provoke the onslaught of what was happening just now. She knew it had to be done. The flu had to be released into the world because the end effect was the mutation that needed to happen. This was the only way that they could resist what GAIA had in store for them. Their lungs needed to mutate into one lung, breathing in a completely different way than how it had breathed up to now.

 

As with every time she projected herself into the past with the altered consciousness, everything went haywire for her in the present. Devoid of her consciousness, the brain alone was not able to function normally and was clouded by the overwhelming synapse points where the memories were being mixed into the present state of being. The past, the present and the future seemed to all merge into one apocalyptic moment and she could see the waters engulf the land as well as see the ice age that was to follow the overheating of the planet. All those thoughts raced into her head like realities that presented themselves to her. She could see all of it happening as if it were happening in front of her eyes. Meanwhile, her consciousness was inspiring her in the past to create the worded intention and put out the magic spell into the collective consciousness.

 

Her consciousness saw the words and at the same time saw them manifesting. It was a flu alright, but it was a flu that needed to fundamentally change the human body. Like every time there was a significant shift in the Earth requiring a shift in consciousness and in the bodies, it was always done through a flu or some other pandemic. Her consciousness was then satisfied by what was released and came back to her in the present, right in the nick of time before her mind would go into overdrive with all the stimuli and shut itself out forever. The flu was not as deadly as the Spanish flu before it but they seemed to be afraid of it even more. They called it covid-19 and treated it like it was an enemy. Little did they know that they had to go through the process of catching it in order to mutate. If they did not mutate, they would not be able to survive the shift that GAIA was preparing for them. It had had to be done despite the thousands of deaths. They must all catch the flu to avoid humanity becoming extinct on the planet once GAIA’s program had come into place…

 

Dead Can Dance “Yulunga” 2005

Life’s everlasting flower

Life’s everlasting flower

23 April 2020

Courtesy Christian Schloe

 

Inside me

The memories spill

They spell slow

Overkill

Of words gathered in neat stacks

Unfolding in racks

 

The soothing

Blindness that covers

What I read

Once in time

Now concealed the very rhyme

Of breath that hovers

 

Outside me

Circles concentric

They twine low

Into skill

Life’s everlasting flower

Intricate power

 

Reading of the poem:

Alone with the Alone (verses by Ibn’ Arabi)  – Henry Corbin

My feet are weary

My feet are weary

8 April 2020

Courtesy New York Times

 

Catch my breath

It escapes in lakes

As I whirl

Remember!

Essence of life is hidden

Between tree and bark

 

Remind me

Of jewels in chest

Studded pearls

Hold moonshine

Revelry began with wine

Ending in my salt

 

Fill me words

My head is tired

Lay them down

Near bosom

Fly me to castles in sky

My feet are weary

 

Reading of the poem:

Jon Bryant – “At Home” [Official Audio]

The souls spared

The souls spared

4 April 2020

souls pinterest com 3 point 3
Courtesy pinterest.com

 

Smother not

The wilful intent

It breathes low

Remedies

For the dark venture to cease

The mind none to tease

 

Pursue Art

Within mighty heart

The power

To harness

Kingdoms beyond the darkness

Where brave stand duress

 

Look beyond

Written in the skies

The hearts paired

The souls spared

The breach a keen reminder

When the mind despaired

 

Reading of the poem:

The Lumineers – Sleep On The Floor (Official Video)

I am gone

I am gone

30 March 2020

Courtesy desktopnexus.com

 

Did you see ?

The ripple-clad lake

In shining

Replicates

The wonders that we can be

When we’re pacified

 

Speak to me

The birds have lost songs

Their beaks blue

Like my soul

My mind relinquished control

The lack in your words

 

Hone me slow

Caress my feathers

I am gone

In song shrill

Birds calling on window sill

They follow shadows

 

Reading of the poem:

Within – Winter Aid