dear, you…

back there, lights must have dimmed
to sorrow  –
have you, too?
~
dear, you…

i am okay  – all is as blue as it can be
quenching the brown of my eyes,

i love the red-white lighthouse,
bereft of tourists, amid the green,
i come here often
to find the pain of my solace,
of one kind  – the other kind
is left with you  –

sweet salt fumes linger on my lips,
the sea looks deep like loss, grains
of sand end up everywhere, like
the thought of you,

i am holding reins over
the beach or i will drown,
and building castles, and collecting
conch shells, and stark-white pebbles,

i will gather some for you, too.

 

.

For With Real Toads’ At the Seaside Challenge. The last sea I encountered was ruined by the urban mess of a metropolitan. That is not what I wrote about.
I instead remember the seas of Port Blair (2013) as I go about it – I went up that lighthouse on an island nearby only once and still, it left an impression on me. I was on my own, but for the blue expanse ahead and the green on all other sides.  The poem is fictional but that memory stirs these emotions in me – the palate of my thoughts turn to blue, grey and blood. Otherwise, I have no recollection of having written a postcard or a letter of this kind. What I had to write stayed within, brown and forlorn like my skin, not turned into the coherency of lines. If it were, it would have been something like this. And as fiction goes, it is never completely so. *winks*

*Also linking it up with Poetry Pantry at PU.

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an ocean story

down the lanes of persistence and sweat,
there are waves lapping at the mind’s cliff,
seeking restoration of things wild and vain,

I see with my squid eyes the promulgation
of morrows bound to my brows, lives are tarnished
by the salt of this ocean of continuity, despite
a range of cul de sacs of mediocrity,

I ache to parch my thirst through drowning,
I seek virtues in the bleeding sun touched by
paints of this allegory. I have seen tempests
and treacheries, I have witnessed moats
of luxury, and the contrasts that lie within
these stories.

the vastness doesn’t exemplify loss but transcends it
into a lonesome lore,
I can feel the brush of drops and sand coming
awash, on my face, as my limbs stretch out
to become the shore, where

sirens sing and muses muse a melancholic hymn,

a reverie is lost and found, thus becoming –

it was meant to lose itself in turquoise ripples,
for the fates of my nature and your culture
are misaligned.

.
Linking it up with Midweek Motif at Poets United
*16 June: Linking it up with dVerse OLN

Instagram: mypeculiarself
Facebook: @aaha12345

Beach Enthusiasm Haiku

slight rain at the beach

sea waves lapping at my feet

running on water

~

running on water

hands flapping in the sea-breeze

clouds rumble above

~

clouds rumble above

 enthusiastic deep breaths

pebbles beneath feet

* I had thought of including my own photograph to accompany this set.  But I couldn’t find it. There is a ‘my’ reference in the haiku but I wanted to clarify that it isn’t my photograph and the actual source is provided along with it.

* For Carpe Diem 254 # Enthusiasm.