'I have spread my dreams under your feet
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams'
- William Butler Yeats
[He Wishes for The Cloths of Heaven]
I was at the beach. I sat on a beach-mat watching the waves fight it out... racing each other to reach me first! I was waiting for my dad to come and take me to them. I watched them, as their lulling waves waited for me to rush in to join them. The blue green waves enticed me and compelled me- pushing me backwards and pulling me inwards. So I drew closer and began doodling in the sand. Pouring all my childish creativity into it, i created an enchanted landscape with elaborate details. Just as I finished my masterpiece, my betraying friends- the gray-green waves rushed over my masterpiece diminishing it into mere clumps ofsand dotted with seashells, with slimy seaweed winding around my castle.I kicked out at them and screamed fiercely, challenging them to a fight unto death. Their indifference angered me. i was all of six years old then!
There began my battle with the world to protect Dream and Hope. Eleven years down the line, I found myself penning a poem about Hope, with an ever-growing list of Dreams that I could not formulate.
A fleeting Hope nuzzled my back.
Its intensity startling me out of my pondering.
I let my foreboding slip past and
Turned around.
We played together in the shadows of the rainbows,
As we danced the shadows shrunk
We took it for a good omen then
And laughed.
We leapt onto the rainbows
and skipped around on them.
The Blues welcomed us,
The Reds overwhelmed us,
The Greens tranquilized us,
But the Purples remained silent.
We looked upon them in awe,
Ready to follow them to the ends of the Earth.
They regarded us-with silence as always.
But Hope found another friend to play with,
It left me suddenly, not caring to say goodbye.
Loneliness clambered over me.
Today, Hope is back to flirt with me;
The same irresistible friend it was before
I wonder for a second if it missed me
But too late!
This time the Reds are beckoning to us
Note: This is something I wrote for an art school application essay. Do leave a comment, good or bad. just so i know how i'm doing!
- William Butler Yeats
[He Wishes for The Cloths of Heaven]
I was at the beach. I sat on a beach-mat watching the waves fight it out... racing each other to reach me first! I was waiting for my dad to come and take me to them. I watched them, as their lulling waves waited for me to rush in to join them. The blue green waves enticed me and compelled me- pushing me backwards and pulling me inwards. So I drew closer and began doodling in the sand. Pouring all my childish creativity into it, i created an enchanted landscape with elaborate details. Just as I finished my masterpiece, my betraying friends- the gray-green waves rushed over my masterpiece diminishing it into mere clumps ofsand dotted with seashells, with slimy seaweed winding around my castle.I kicked out at them and screamed fiercely, challenging them to a fight unto death. Their indifference angered me. i was all of six years old then!
There began my battle with the world to protect Dream and Hope. Eleven years down the line, I found myself penning a poem about Hope, with an ever-growing list of Dreams that I could not formulate.
A fleeting Hope nuzzled my back.
Its intensity startling me out of my pondering.
I let my foreboding slip past and
Turned around.
We played together in the shadows of the rainbows,
As we danced the shadows shrunk
We took it for a good omen then
And laughed.
We leapt onto the rainbows
and skipped around on them.
The Blues welcomed us,
The Reds overwhelmed us,
The Greens tranquilized us,
But the Purples remained silent.
We looked upon them in awe,
Ready to follow them to the ends of the Earth.
They regarded us-with silence as always.
But Hope found another friend to play with,
It left me suddenly, not caring to say goodbye.
Loneliness clambered over me.
Today, Hope is back to flirt with me;
The same irresistible friend it was before
I wonder for a second if it missed me
But too late!
This time the Reds are beckoning to us
Note: This is something I wrote for an art school application essay. Do leave a comment, good or bad. just so i know how i'm doing!
I am awestruck. I love that piece of writing. WOW! WOW!
ReplyDelete*solemn air, goes down on one knee*
"Harini, will you.....be my soulmate forever and ever?"
:-* I LOVE YOUR WORK!
This comment has been removed by the author.
DeleteI love you too!
DeleteBesides soul mates are not a renounceable quantity.
Even if we hate each other at some point, we will have to live with each other.
So don't worry.
You're stuck with me.
Even if we dont see each other or talk for 12 years!
I'm not too good with poetry, but the prose bit evoked a kind of distant nostalgia. I used to play on the beach a lot as a kid, but the feeling I feel on reading your piece isn't a direct rush of nostalgia. It's more a distant looking-on.. looking at a child me playing in the sand and feeling a wave of "aww"-ness. As for the poetry, it took me a couple of reads, and I wouldn't say I've completely absorbed it. I don't quite know how to explain my reaction to it, but I'll try...
ReplyDeleteIt reminded me of an.. out-of-focus picture. (Google Bokeh photography). It's blurry, but super colourful and warm.. I'm longing to jump into it to see it in sharp focus, but I'm happy anyway, because the blur is beautiful in itself.
Very abstract thought process, but those were my reactions!
Yup.
DeleteThat sounds like the photographer in you.
Thanks smi!
You should keep writing.
its beautiful, ode to the sands eh? I felt The pross part is better, as in the first few lines seems a bit artificial in the poem, very unlike the pross and the poem gets better towards the end.i guess the connection is not very evident, how the pross ends and the poem begins but both endings match better?
ReplyDeleteyou have written it and its not just yours anymore :)
It reminds me of wind and open seas btw. Its colourful too
:)
DeleteHonest person.
Well I wasn't trying to create a masterpiece. Just a college essay.
:P
But thank you
The prose is moving. All of us with an Indian childhood have been to the beach, written things on the sand and watched as the sea washed it away. Sometimes, we still do it and the pouting child in us finds a voice. That is the voice that you written of here.
ReplyDeleteThe poetry is radiant. If you can get a person like me to understand poetry, that says something by itself. I love how you have brought in colour and attached a personality to each of them. Why am I not surprised that Purple is the unique one, the one that stands out?
Harini, you write beautifully. This piece resonates honesty and deep truth. It rises and falls like the waves themselves. I love it :)
Thank you child.
Delete:P
I finally figured out what in my settings was blocking my replies.
i dont even remember what I wanted to say then.
Something clever I suppose.
Good piece, Har!:) I could almost see the six-year-old on the sand, screaming at the waves... :) And the poem begins beautifully, and doesn't let us down all the way through.
ReplyDeleteGirish!
ReplyDeleteDie!
but thank you