A correspondence is a kind of love affair…It is with our own epistolary persona that we fall in love,rather than with that of our pen pal.-Janet Malcolm
The weather is sunshiney without being brutal. Clear days with bobbing white clouds, blue skies, starry nights filled with twinkling stars,trees filling with tender green leaves, the scent of mango blossoms in the air and the promise of ripe mangoes in the near future.
Vestiges of spring are still there and summer hasn’t yet begun, it’s the best time to be outdoors and be merry. The lovely wind, the whispering trees, everything feels so cheerful.Vibrant hues everywhere.When you cycle slowly through meandering roads, absorbing the calmness round you, everything is abuzz with a quiet excitement. You can almost hear a hum if you listen just right.
It’s almost infectious, you can’t help but feel jubilant and for no apparent reason. That’s when I thank God I’m alive because I feel alive. To feel alive is the greatest feeling,no words can describe that feeling of quiet contentment emanating from within.
Ah the school days, the anticipation of the all things to come in the vacation ahead. So many life enriching things to do, places to visit, people to discover, games to invent, story books to read. Almost a never ending list of things to do.
I remember the days, when flying high on a swing felt like a slice of heaven, playing hide and seek in the buildings around, jumping from trees an act of bravura and helping people do their homework an act of greatest goodwill and sacrifice.
April has always signified a time for new beginnings. The new class in the school year started in April bringing with it a sense of adventure and excitement, of shared joys and sorrows, sharing tiffins and lives, playing hopscotch and land and water, of having a favourite teacher and getting a good word from her making your day, crying over silly things like losing a pencil box your best friend had gifted or somebody not inviting you to their birthday party. No competition just blissful coexistence.That was life.The good old days.
Good things always come to an end but while they lasted memories were created for a lifetime, which can be retrieved at will and even gone back to whenever the need arises. An attack of nostalgia is always good. A time machine would have been even better but I live in the real world so I have to take what I can get.
For me April signifies all is that good in life in the truest sense of the word.
Ergo, April is life.
An earful keeps you going for life.
Love is a delight.
Of delicious aromas and pungent smells.
Love is where silence speaks volumes.
Eyes the true window to soul.
Love is doomed from the beginning.
Expectations paving the way for destruction.
Love is optimism personified.
The glass always appearing half full (of warm soothing amber coloured honey ).
Love is a pessimist’s heaven.
The glass always half empty( of poison).
Love is a boon.
It saved the human race, fierce competition aside leaving space for humanity and humility.
Love is a bane.
An opiate which can leave you feeling high for days, months and years.
Love is a safe cocoon.
Shielding you from harsh reality engulfing you in its kind embrace.
Love is cold-blooded.
Mercilessly breaking hearts which can never be whole again.
Love is a fresh flower.
Wafting its fragrances far and wide.
Love is effervescent.
Perking up sad, sorry days where it’s the only bright spark.
Love is doldrums, sad and static.
Where it’s not love at all but a heady infatuation.
Love is eternal.
Forever and unending, binding until death comes knocking.
Love is in the moment.
The moment is all you have, instantaneous and fleeting.
Love is selfish.
Throbbing with desires and wants.
Love is selfless,
where the I has dissolved.
Love is the light of a thousand shining suns,
gleaming and illuminating the vast empty canvas of life.
Love is the pitch black of the night,
no one in sight,inky blackness all around.
Love is a feeling, a state of mind.
A tender touch, a shared moment, a life together.
Waving off all definitions
Love just IS.
“To believe in something, and not to live it, is dishonest.”— Mohandas K. Gandhi
without moving an inch.
An arm chair adventurer
my mind the best mode of transport,
transporting me into fantasy lands or into different realms altogether.
the mind a nebula.
Thoughts born anew,many zillion a minute.
Flitting past each other never going beyond the mind’s narrow gate.
Breaking free towards a new path
a new vision envisioned.
New light shed on the black path
things born anew.
Moving towards a transcendental experience
beyond mind’s narrow thoughts.
Soaring into the world and being one with it.
Everything in tandem shutting out the chaos.
Peace and Orderliness restored.
This was posted around a year back in the writing section of Goodreads,in fact my first poem which people have read.Why did I post it here?Nothing really justifiable,I just wanted to start April on a good note.Of late I have been feeling really hopeless and nothing good is coming out of my pen.So I’m going back into flashback mode hoping to be inspired.