Cookies

W hy is it difficult?
why is it anything or everything?!

Not expecting an answer, Leila circled the tea spoon with some alertness to avoid the clink and put the cookies on the saucer.

The chestnut table was old and scratched.
Leila placed the china on the crotchet table mat to see him drawing lines on the table, his Apollo finger, conscious yet lost.

He did not look up, instead took a cookie and started digging at the chocolate chips.
The tea smoked in oblivion.

Outside viewed from her window, was turning sepia, the concentrated rays of the morning ball ready to be basketed, made moving abstracts on the golden brown surface of the liquor.
The junction where a day slips into the gape of death, the rugged hanging roots from the old tree in the yard lending crow’s feet to the day’s aging silhouette.

The moment the inside turns poetry.

Leila took out her journal to read aloud some of her scrawls. It was like living in her words, crossing over to a world she creates every time she puts pen on paper.
The relaxed, relieved world in the midst of chaos, where she swims with the stars and floats on carpet of clouds, washed in the gold of the fire ball.

It was his turn to recite today, but he kept digging.
The cookies. Chocolate chips looking like damaged brown eyes.

The tea was getting cold but she refrained from spelling it out….silence was the only music she preferred right now.
The unavoidable ticking of the grandfather clock was vexing enough.

Leila leafed through her journal and stopped at the last one she scribbled and started reading slowly…..

She shunned her crown for her sword
And the promise of giant waves lashing
the mind shore, beach warts,
where starlight alights

She plated her hair with dust of stars
Shining when the night grows tall
Head full of tender honey-clouds
She headed softly space bound….
Travelling oceans before the
Sundial beamed
To catch a coral reef in sky bed
soaked in scapes dreamed

She carries the sun inside her
Life in her eyes sparkled ‘n shined
Mountains of wishes unfulfilled
Receipts received from unkept time

She walks towards the light
Her skin becomes a leaf
Drenched and dripping
Let her be…..

Photo: Nefelibata.in Monoreena

It was the kitchen tap that was leaking and created annoying noise every time it splashed on the sink.
Leila stood up and walked towards it. She turned the tap knob tight using some force.

He glanced sideways looking at the sink, eyes turning weak for once, and got back to his chocolate chip affair.

Leila continued:

What will happen if one day
You wake up to all
To the wave’s complaint the world
Is so small
Waking up to the state of rise
Tip-tap dreams crowding the eyes
Notes of melancholy to heart it binds

Take me, take me
To the land where unspoken words fly
Consciousness hold hands O! so un-trite
Where the marshland rise to touch the sky
Where golden rays craft collage in fallen
minds

Where she sends embraces to the planet old
The taped globe on her table leaves tip-toed….

Sky a frame in fluid navy erasing day’s greys
Etched in mind are pieces of an evening in May
The twilight crows run away with the liquid rays

Forgetting the sun, which now lies on her plate

The window a television to her sentience
Paints words like reels come alive
Evening comes dressed as dewy audience
Only moving with ease — that’s her mind

She sits in her pool of words
Her skin becomes a leaf
Drenched and dripping
Let her be…..

In her pool of words
So drenched and dripping
Her skin becomes a leaf
Just let her be…..

Leila looked up from her journal to witness the world turn dark.
Busyness of the day giving way to a cool, breezy evening.

No-rush hours made her inside world calm.

Leila turned to find him sitting in that same posture, his head down working with the chips.
Only the baked flour dough, now completely empty of all the chocolate chips looked like a visage of an unearthly.

Drawing a line to a past.

“You need a certain amount of nerve to be a writer” — Margaret Atwood

Au Revoir from Soul Bay. Hope you all are enjoying your summer spell and finding time to read and write. Happy to find you in my Bay every time to engage and inspire!

Can’t go before sharing one ‘Healing’ composition in Raag Ahir Bhairav. It a raag played/sung at dawn aimed at sunrise.
Do start your morning plugging into this music for a positive, peaceful vibe if you are finding it hard to cope today. Music has power to heal. enjoy:)

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Friday, 29 March 2024
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