Fleeting dreams: mixed scenes

-

 Layers that alternately gleam

 


Submerged under a multitude of layers,

lies a distant dream.

Enveloped in mystery or perhaps just a

an illusionary slipstream.

It tries to surface and resurface, grappling

to stay afloat on its own steam.

The impetus of darkness makes it thrive,

but in the light, it barely survives.     

How does one then from the deepest

recesses of the mind, retrieve?

Shards of memories, some broken some peeled,

keep emerging evaporate, coalesce.    

Astounded by the perpetuality of some,

and the belligerence of others playing hide and seek.

Some are coy, some have blatant and bizarre streaks.

All in all, deeply embedded in every psyche are a

million imprints, scathed unscathed,

brimming up against the tide: some reach the shore

others dissipate, tired of trying.

 ©Copyright Suverchala Kashyap

  

Comments

Unknown said…
I love this writer, I have personally observed her teacher training and develop the most fantastic story writing skills in young children. Long live the great story tellers of this world.
5 October 2020 at 09:56
Suverchala said…
Thank you, I can't see your name hence unable to address you appropriately but am really glad you liked it.
5 October 2020 at 10:26
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Sunset awaiting a new sunrise

-
Image
The heart bleeds as the sun rises, every day a new wedge, deeper drives; all around, there is mayhem, nothing surprises. As a father sings a lullaby to his little one, and a mother narrates a story of valour and pride: voices echo in the dark, deepening the existing divide.   Most are sleepwalking through life, zombies caught in a vortex that demeans humanity and thus thrives.  Constantly looking for the deviant and pliant mind, hungry waves catch on, spreading far and wide.  Strange are times, devolving at high tide, awash with a notion that hatred shall help derive, answers to everything that has forever eluded mankind. We are our own enemies, hurtling toward disaster with increasing speed, our nemesis clearly defined.   #SrKmusings #poetry #refuge #harmony
Read more

Redemption rare ?

-
Image
  Times have changed, indeed they have:  one often sees the  pot calling the kettle black ! Wonder when good  sense vanished & where?  Everything suddenly vaporised, in diaphanous thin air. The haze is heavy, blinding: overpowering one & all;  debate, dissent are rare.  In a crevice along the bend, erupts a tender tendril:  brave, feisty & bare ! Rearing it’s tiny head,  raring to go & ensnare: just awaiting the spunk to tell  the pot & the kettle,  how they are both dark & devious:  beyond redemption & repair. Times have changed,  indeed they have.  #Srkmusings
Read more

Dilemma divides

-
Image
Precarious & precious, so is life, always dangling on  a dangerous divide. Dancing shadows in the middle of the night, imbued were her dreams  in red & golden light. Power was an illusion, sometimes difficult to deride. Fantasy was her mainstay, she loved the risky tides. Shattered & broken  wanting to escape & hide, solitude & solemnity  her only respite. But often she ached to break the world's false pride. In the midst of the melee  called life, she managed to elude prevalent & impending strife. Caught between morning and night, silently waits twilight. Trapped in the shadows  of the moon is the sun's flight. Borrowed moments compellingly  repel yet invite. Poised, patient she bides  her time. #SrKmusings #moonrides #tides
Read more