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The invisible woman


She is still there, staring into the wide navy blanket,
with diamond stones strewn all over,
she sits there with widened eyes moist with pearly tears,
lips dry and speechless she is,staring into nothing,
that rules everything underneath.

She slowly walks out into the sandy shores,
she rattles the waves with her tremendous arms,
but straightens herself on seeing the silvery bliss,
the silvery bliss pouring out from the huge hole in the nightly spread,
the pathway to heaven, welcoming her into innocence.

She ignores the rare invite and drowns herself
into the joyous cloak of transparency,though a bit salty,
she plunges fathoms deep into the solemn main,and
rolls herself onto the coarse shores of powdered gold,
thus she brings the shores in communion with frivolity.

She leaves them behind just to dance with the denser green,
she rocks forward and back, shaking off the heart of every man in there,
their hearts fall at her feet, in colours of green, yellow, red and brown.
They are swept across by her gentle moves and dart into the nothingness,
then the men stay unturned like rocks ,heart-barren and grief-striken.

She flies like a bird, though with much ease,
in here and there, everywhere,soothingly pats the stream,
and swirls happily, plucking flowers, fruits and even trees, at times,
in her journey, she ransacks, but never sacks a thing for her own,
she breathes life into the living and makes them smile.

She makes them smile and close their eyes,
she darts in and out of them making them survive,
she flies into the saddened soul and soothes it with her innate bliss,
she drizzles into the hard ground as fat drops of rain,
she makes joy out of anything, guess who she is?

Comments

  1. Quite a poignant and well-wrought verse, Gayathree. I especially like the way you have used precious metals to speak of THE woman but the jewels don't serve any purpose except for adding to the image. Very thoughtfully written.

    Joy always,
    Susan

    ReplyDelete

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If you had missed the previous chapters of the story: Click here Chapter 1Chapter 2

CHAPTER 3


It was the fall again, they had gone for a stroll outside the university campus into the beautiful park where snowy trees surrounded the white spread and there were very few passers-by due to the freezing chill.
The two of them hovered around enjoying the beauty carpeted around them. Maureen had already gone down, working her gloved hands into the snowy layers. She started rolling a huge ice ball with a grin on her pink face. Steve looked at her dazed by the tinkle of her eyes and the jingle that her laughter spread in his heart.  The moist wind ruffled her blond hair, some of which fell onto her face like a wave onto the shores.
Steve just stood there with his hands folded, his lips curved into a mesmerizing smile and his eyebrows were arched in sheer amazement of what was happening to him that moment.   He felt…

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To write is to dwell

FEBRUARY 15th, 2012





















What writing means to me...

As lonely as a cloud, as boring as boredom itself, I was. I grew up as a typical child at school but a very hefty one, I am still the same. I managed to cheer people with my innocence but did not manage to make happy friends to last a lifetime because of my gross physique. I couldn't play as I had no playmates at home and my only hobby was to sit and watch tv.

When I was studying in kindergarten, I used to visit a nearby shop with my dad. My dad was busy shopping for groceries and I engaged myself in observing things around me. The people who had mixed emotions that outshone on their faces, an old man cycling with a lot of strain, probably getting back home, the lady vendor with her dirty saree pinned up to her waist and squatting on the floor, selling vegetables, the autowala bargaining with his potential customer, the green trees which arched high with its countless leaves, the flowers that smile at me on the road side, happy child…