Honour in love by Neel Anil Panicker #writephoto

Akash stepped out of the door and stared through the slits of tree branches at the expanse of barrenness that spread out before him and then beyond at the distant hills that seemed to lord over the desolate expanse.

An eerie silence that he had known since arriving a week ago clung on not unlike a monstrous bat’s wings, dark and forbidding.

He lifted himself up and sat on the parapet, ready for his nightly vigil.

A sigh and then a slight shifting of body weight and he knew Naina was lost in the arms of sleep.

His lips broke into a smile and his mind turned to the past.

God had been kind; kind enough for him to be blessed with the love of a girl like her.

Not that there was anything lacking in him. I mean what girl would not like a boy who was handsome (“not in the conventional sense”__ for a long time he had wondered what that meant); respected women ( “it’s in your eyes”); and outstanding in studies (“I see a hot shot lawyer in you”).

But then Naina was different, much different from the bevy of college beauties that strut around in high heels, their perfectly lined eyebrows cocking a snook at one and all.

She was earthy and real; very lively too.

That’s what he found out on their first date which he very hesitantly proposed after mulling over it for three torturous weeks.

Once he was over his ‘will she, won’t she’ worries, he began to woo her in true movie style and very shortly they became the newest, cutest, and hottest of love birds.

Keep reading: Honour in Love

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Whispering

standing stone in the mist

magnetic poem

Intuition in stone

Seeds ancient earth

With murmured secrets.

Spirit walks a sacred world

Breathing tendrils of song

For me to follow.

Through the lonely night,

I walk the path of harmony

Wandering between summer clouds

To wild moonlight,

Listening always

For you.

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Tryst by Willow #writephoto

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Sue  Vincent  said :Use the image below to create a post on your own blog… poetry, prose, humour… light or dark, whatever you choose, by noon (GMT)  Wednesday 22nd February and link back to Sue’s post with a pingback Here.  Please make sure that the pingback works and if not, copy and paste your link into the comments section of  Sue’s post here.

 

She  came  around  the  side  of  the  summer house  to  find  him  waiting! The  relief  she  felt  was  impossible  to  measure. He  was  concerned,  did  anyone  see  her  leave, was  she followed. She  soothed  his  hair  and  told him  all  was safe  as  ever  she  had  been  careful.

It  was getting  harder  for  them  to meet  the  war was  encroaching  on  their lives  and  everyone  was  feeling  threatened  and  so  no one  was safe  from  prying  eyes. Their  eyes  met  in  the  darkling  of  the  late evening they  leaned  into  each other  to kiss. The  electricity  between  them  was visible. Running  his  hands  down  her  back  he  felt something  hot  and  wet…… Blood , he  withdrew  from  their  embrace  and  asked her  with  concern  how had  she been  wounded!

Keep reading here.

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Guest Post by Sue Vincent: These Are a Few of Her Favorite Things

Today I am a guest on Sayling Away where Noelle Granger asked me to write about a few of my favourite things…

SaylingAway

Sue Vincent of The Daily Echo blog (https://scvincent.com/) agreed to my request for a guest post on the subject of: These Are a Few of My favorite Things. I know you will enjoy this.

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Noelle recently agreed to write a guest post for my blog, and in return, she kindly asked me to reciprocate by sharing a few of my favourite things. This is more difficult than it seems… how do you pick out a handful of favourites from a world full of people and wonders? Leaving people out of the equation entirely seemed the only way forward. I went back to the blog for inspiration and looked at the things that generally make me pick up the pen, because these are the things that always make my heart smile.

sv-1-aniNo surprise then, that the first ‘thing’ to come to mind was Ani, the accidental dog with a repertoire…

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Posted in Birds, Books, Dogs, Don and Wen, soul, Spirituality, Stuart France and Sue Vincent, The Silent Eye | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Colours of Light

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Although I am a Yorkshire lass, these days I live in the ‘soft south’ where the weather is mild and the winters tend to be less businesslike than the ones I used to know. There has been just the lightest dusting of snow, barely enough to notice, yet apart from an odd day of hope, the damp grisaille still lingers. So, as I drove north for the weekend, it was with surprise and delight that I saw that spring has begun in good earnest.

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It started slowly, with hazel catkins swaying in the breeze. They are always amongst the first signs of spring and, although I was glad to see them, I thought them little more than  early heralds of things yet to come. Although odd specks of colour mark the presence of brave blooms that have opened in defiance of the damp and although the birds are very busy,  the skies still held little hope of warmth.

sparrows

But, as I drove north, crossing county after county, the sun came out for a while and the landscape changed from dark to bright. The patches of colour grew, lighting the sheltered shadows and by the time I reached Derbyshire, naked winter was cloaked in jewels that reflected the colours of the pale, golden sun.

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Shoots, red and green, peep above the dark earth. Crocuses and daffodils are already in bloom and great drifts of snowdrops glisten on shady banks. Wallflowers unfurl delicately crumpled petals in the safe shelter of old stones, adding their perfume to air fragrant with possibility.

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Fat buds are breaking open on magnolia and camellia, promising a flamboyance yet to come. Soft pink blossoms grace rain-blackened branches… spring is only just beginning to flex her petalled wings, but you can feel the world waking to new life. It is not that spring had come to the north alone, but what had been hidden from my eyes in the south was now made visible.

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I drove for hours, south to north along the back roads, between hedgerows that gave way to the dry-stone walls of home. It was as if I was journeying from one world to another, from the gentle sorrow of winter to the new life and rebirth of spring. As I drove, our friend passed also from this life and into the Light and it seemed almost as if the spring had awakened in her honour. Like spring, she too was golden.

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It is not until the sun has once more warmed the earth that the vivid shades appear, only to soften once more with the bronzing of the leaves in autumn before paling into winter. Winter passes quietly, in muted tones and the very first flowers of spring wear always the soft colours of dawn and the pale gold of a reborn sun. The cycling seasons of the year reflect the journey of the sun and the earth is adorned with the colours of light.

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Tryst by Stuart France #writephoto…

summerhouse*

He had not intended to come here.

Without thinking his tired steps

had led…

to the shelter,

half-portico, half-shed,

and to brighter, lighter days…

*

Continue reading: Tryst #writephoto…

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Sight #midnighthaiku

far-seeing-vision-serenely-regards-the-world-watching-its-cycles

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