I saw once a boat

parked in the sand;

the name of its owner was carved on its bark.

The boat which once was a tree.

The waters had left a mark

below where the name was carved.

A name a mark of identity.

I felt the body of that silent boat

when the sun went down and the moon arose.

The sand below my feet

was damp and warm still.

and a boat upturned, lying in the sand.

The briny sand stuck to my feet, lingered on the tongue

and bit my skin,

a stinging sand

and the whistling wind,

and I sat in the sand

leaning against the moist bark of the boat that once was a tree.

I listened to the wind and the body of the boat

whose master was far from the shore,

somewhere fast asleep.

And then it started to rain,

a tropical rain on a darkening shore.

I got to go I said.

I 'll come again tomorrow to the same place

hoping to hear the tales of the boat.

Sushama Karnik (c)

26 June 2016

A Girl In Love:  Image: Courtesy +tanya dimitrova

The cold winds blew
hard on their faces,
as the sun hid behind the clouds,
and  the dust of golden sand blinded her eyes.
The sand that blew with the wind,
blew everywhere,
and in the sheet of dust covering the clouds
as the eyesight dimmed,
she felt his presence
and heard those words:
a sudden declaration of love!
And suddenly again
the wind blew;
suddenly the canopy of the mind flew;
thousands of swallows resting in the heart
fluttered and flew with the wind.
Not knowing if the rapture was sadness or joy
she covered her face in a surprise.
Thousands of swallows broke their cage
and found freedom  in the infinite blue
that shone unseen
behind the fog of dust and the screen of the  clouds
of gloom.

Sushama Karnik   (c)
2015

The call Of The Sea

THE CALL OF THE SEA
Every road leads somewhere.
There ought to be somewhere they meet.
Mountains ahead, deserts to cross,
but oh, this grain of sand!
It does not cease to bite.
When am I to cross the desert, climb the mountains,
flow with the river and reach
the bay where roars the sea?
The fascinating, deep , surging sea,
where I drop my language and learn to sing,
give up all effort to translate the song,
where the sonorous silence rising from my depth
finds its echo in the sea.
The deserts of sands never glimpsed the sea,
and yet the prayers from the mosque strike the appointed time;
remind me of my tryst with the sea.
The ceaseless humming, the droning of an infinite number of bees,
surround my heart,
 and stir
memories stored in the depth of the sea.
Wherever I happen to be on earth,
wherever wake up, wherever sleep,
the call of the sea has to reach.
The hounds of heaven, the call of the tides, rising and falling,
when I face thee, O Ocean,
I can grasp at nothing, nor let go.

Sushama Karnik (c)



Image received via +Souheil Ghammachi 

Romanescoeur Inès originally shared to ☆ Every road leads somewhere ☆ (Discussie):

Draping And Undressing

Jan 31, 2016

Voices, Illusions, Metaphors, Draping and Undressing
Resting squarely
on a single beam,
otherworldly,haunting,
static, still...
the black images cast
on the white screen,
turning smoky, misty,
foggy, dim,
dissolving into vapor, and then
a lucid gleam.

Quiet, deeply troubled,
a revelation, sad behind the resonance,
quietly sad,
then turning to mockery,
lushly green,
metaphors hardly recognized as metaphors,
simply a game,
a revelation, a glimpse.

Again a magician at the top of his game,
tossing a theme into the chaos,
then melting thin,
withdrawing, winding
the loops and warps,
and as I am watching still,
the haunted melody gone in a moment,
leaving a memory
of a voice focused,
assured , powerful,
but out of reach.

A Closed Gate

A closed gate, ornate, elegant, opulent
a spell, a pause, a glimpse
of a remote splendor
that wraps around a lord's mansion,
tantalizing, teasing in its veiled dimensions,
a call for the imagination,
but there the sojourn ends.
You move ahead to a simple homestead,
hungry, thirsty, tired to the bones.
It stands humble, unkempt,
lush green, the tree that holds
a shadow over its intimate,rustic face.
Someone looks, out opens the door.
Every brick in the wall speaks, greets you to a welcome smile drawn right across walls,
unceremonious, warm, it knows exactly
 what weighs on your mind.

Sushama Karnik (c)

We Are Lebanon originally shared the image

A beautiful gate of a great palace in Sawfar
By @sacha_al_aref_photography #WeAreLebanon
#Lebanon #WeAreLebanon

A Golden Dawn

In the golden dawn I searched for you

spreading my wings over waves,
in the purple sky of the eventide
I looked for you again.
It was only as the sky in impatience
turned to me, turned red and you spoke
The reddening of passion had to go quiet
and the sea had to fall silent as it rained,
and every raindrop that entered my skin,
was your being echoing me;
"I am with you all along;
when did I ever go away?"

Frida Caka originally shared the image

the image received via Anna .A

Apr 10, 2015



For Tanya
Our Window

She waited long before the dusk,

with two chairs placed
facing the window for me and her.
Sadness was something I hated to see,
but it was there in every pore of her aura
like a book just read and set aside.
"I have always kept this chair, an extra one
for someone to come
and just be with me at dusk.
Too long, "she said.
I said, "I have watched you hold all those flowers
in your hand and watch the river  and hear the river purr,
as though a cat in the intimacy of your warm presence,
and you never knew what I knew."
"Tell me what happens, my dear, when one hears a cat and a river--
the one sits in your lap, while the other goes by in her quiet flow?"
"When you hear a river go purring by
over a long time, very long time,
you are lost; lost to yourself.
You listen to the river, then to your heart,
then to your own silence
and you are lost, not just to yourself, to everything!
It's always and forever water."
We watched the river go by
and the sunset spread its gallant love for us,
two women watching from the window,
a long-awaited occupation of sharing the daily evening light,
with the difference:
that this day, I didn't want her to watch it alone.
SUSHAMA KARNIK (c)
The image below was a photo shared by my very dear friend Tanya Dimitrova while we were in contact on G+.
Sadly, the image is erased after the end of G+/

Two Chairs Facing Each Other Stock Photos - Free & Royalty-Free Stock Photos from Dreamstime

INSIDE

INSIDE

Inside

Inside me
there is an inside, rarely seen, rarely known.
Inside me, it is always dark and cool.
The darkness does not speak, it feels;
your silence and mine
and it becomes the language
that transcends words.
There is nothing that hurts, nothing to heal.
The feathers you gather and bring to this cave
need not write what you wanted to write.
This dark inside has a prescience to read
even the words you did not write;
an amazing world of myths,
all the stories are lying here, uncovered,
page fluttering, but unopened.
I am a prehistoric being.