Mahua Chakrabartty's Blog, page 2

Brooding heart

Tears shone like gems,
Words still left unspoken
As they parted ways
The beating heart's desires broken

Years had gone by, but
The beauty of the flowers
Nor the magical stars
Could save the heart that brood,
And bore the ethereal solitude.

As Love that failed
Was still love,
Unseen to the myriad eyes,
It rustled in the brooding heart
Where it safely dwelled.

- Mahua (20.05.2019)

Dream

The darkness was deep
A candle was lit.
The light was confined, yet encouraging
Flickering in the soothing after shower breeze.

The lights went out suddenly,
As the thunder crackled through the silence;
The Lightning bolt illuminating the night like a day
For a fraction of a second;

The raging storm had passed,
Sweeping with it everything mundane,
The existing life outside looked weary, as if
Catching a breath, post fighting the unprepared battle,

And so is our lives,
The thunder burns, the lightning strikes,
The Storm demolishes
And the rains wash way

Untangling us of our dependencies,
Presenting forth a reason to rebuild anew
And start afresh our path
Not deterring to build our own destiny

The flickering light is the Hope,
Conserved but certain;
Its not the means how we lead our lives
But the meaning why we live our lives

And the journey continues with a promise,
The journey beyond our comforts, beliefs and dreams.

——– Mahua

Black and white rainbow

It was drab and grey. The soft
drizzle outside was like a lullaby. The lullaby that could hitch the
conscious soul into a sub-conscious different world, a world of beauty,
dreams and rarities. the hymn inside my head was continuous, in
resonance with the drip drop sound outside in the streets. I was staring
at the big white canvas with a brush in one hand and a palette of
colours in the other. The colours would be useless if i had chosen to
paint my canvas as the like the grey monotone outside, but the picture
in my mind’s eye was so so in contrast with the one infront of my naked
eyes. It was bright with an array of rainbow colours.

Staring
straight out of the hazy glass window I could see a passing woman all
wet and shivering in the chill but how strange it was that in my other
world there was a similar woman strolling by a beautiful moor in the
bright sunshine. I was lost in thought, how could I transfer my mind’s
rainbow image onto the canvas on such a drab and gloomy day.  Rescue was
at hand when the carefree artist in me took over the cautious
vigilante’ self.

The sunshine in my mind was such that my own
eyes were twinkling out of it and so the first colour my brush
automatically touched was yellow……

The Journey Begins

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton