White is for open-season

Multi-coloured, did someone say

with hues reserved

for love’s unbelievable

and believing eyes?

No, love is white

a fresh page canvass

where eye and word

despair and bliss

conjure their primary colours

sketch and paint and fine-line

but cannot replay

the moving heart-finger’s trace

like a Disney cartoon

in line by line and tiny curl succession

narrating the history

of journey and disintegration,

yes an open space

for colour dance and illusion

tentative footprint and perceived perfection

drawn with flourish or soft touch dab,

and unrecoverable file

at closure:

a lot of colour

between open-season white

and the white at world’s end.

LEAVE A COMMENT

Thief

Because arrival was soft 

Because silence was solicitation enough

Because word and kiss

turned blood, pinched vein, twisted valve

Because fingertip touch stole breath

Because smile broke slow

          slower than flower-bloom

          eternal-slow it seemed

Because residence was not asked

          or given

          but as natural as wind,

          came without knock,

swirled, swept and dusted

Because rule was not obeyed

Because dress code was violated

Because tag was no-thank-you’d

Because those who came like wind

          went like wind

          without notice

Because when realization came a-visiting

          there was no sign

          not of come, not of go and nothing of passing,

Because of all this and more

          a bold-lettered banner was tied to a thousand arrows

          a mind-bow shot them all in all directions

          so one might target find

          and name

          forever.

LEAVE A COMMENT

Profile Pic Commentary

She changed her profile pic 

she got liked

lots of likes,

she got

‘Wow!’

she got ‘Gorgeous’, ‘Pretty’

a ‘very, very’  double qualifier

and I said ‘soft’

when I should have said

‘softness’. 

LEAVE A COMMENT

Reunion in Mt. Lavinia

From story to story 

unearthing of incident

dispute over claims

over words, laughter

a tabletop, plates, glasses

food and drink

in the mix of ocean-break

and wind swirl

this later September

of our histories;

three friends

and thirty thousand stories

condensed

by thirty years

to a singular rudimentary:

we are one

now.

LEAVE A COMMENT 

Faith

One-syllable palliative
that subdues agitation
promises redress and morning,
the turn of thorn to rose
hard gravel into petalled path;
old friend from a long ago
who will hold hand
even as tear falls;
injector of hope
into desperate heart,
thief who robs
and convinces
that loss is virtue
bliss-giving,
necessary accomplice
benevolent companion
on journeys from lost yesterdays
to unknown tomorrows.

LEAVE A COMMENT

Elemental Weerawila

Earth:
Dam
harvest-besting
parchness
break heart cracks.
Water:
Life
color candy
hope sweller
in rise after fall.
Wind:
Cloud verse
swish-promise
of better times
held in imminent sky.
Fire:
Sets,
sets fire
withdraws
burns and gives.

 

[Inspired by the poetry of Hiranya Malwatte]

LEAVE A COMMENT