0.3 Expressions
Dreaming in nostalgia
September 2021
PANACEA by Mehuly Chakraborthy
You paint autumn,
In your tattered oeuvre, bruised and thin,
Sketching a broken silhouette with wearied pens,
Dwindling like dead lines in brittle folios,
Or perhaps, a dimming poet that once
Etched songs under grey banyan trees.
You tell me that
Blending soft pastels in dusk, heals.
That the little thorns that you bred,
Are now dried mulberry roses,
Shedding old novels, vintage and raw.
That you’re a renaissance of
Everything good, subtle.
Knitting slow proses of ephemeral quietude,
You remind me of round towering stairways,
That reside in yellowed terraces of wrinkled Calcutta lanes;
Dignified like the summer of old schooldays,
Of the first love note, that was wrapped in
A little bow, blooming with small poetries of innocence.
I’d then ask you to define, the sad papery stroke
That you keep marking, in different palettes,
Melding them with your fingertips, burnt…pained.
You’d smile;
The one you do when your mother hugs you tight,
On rainy days, talking about honey cakes and crinkled diaries.
And like dawn, brimming amidst souls misplaced,
I'd know that you’ve re-read yourself,
The way you wanted,
Amidst azure tinted windowpanes,
Stitching the cracks with rainbow threads and Wordsworth,
Breathing and pausing like a tale that lasted good -
Knowing to exist, needlessly.
Every month, Mysticeti features a visual or sonic prompt and invites readers to share words inspired by it.
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In September 2021, we wrote thoughts inspired by Bloom - playlist by A Humming Heart
Playlist by A Humming Heart
PEEKABOO by Shombuddha Majumdar
soaring above
a quilt of dark grey clouds
the sun plays peekaboo
squeal, giggle, and shout
it's too cold for us
to be playing like little kids
open curtains
neighbours looking in
LET ME KNOW BY TOMORROW IF POSSIBLE by Rajat Kindangan
melancholy words dancing to restful tunes
take me back to our nostalgic noons
when you'd serenade me
with your wistful melody
gently bringing forth longings
without meanings
without warnings
of nervous highs of adolescent love
and grounding wisdom from up above
and they all seem new to me
and they all still ring true to me
MY INNER SELF IS A PLANT by Ria Chauhan
How does a plant grow?
It sits on a window still
wishing for sunlight
getting none, sometimes some.
​
How does a plant grow?
By showing its best leaves for you
to know that you are alive today -
blood in your veins,
sunshine in your face.
And so you keep your worries aside
as you water the soil and trim the sides.
You step out to get it some sun
even when you don't have it enough.
​
How does a plant grow?
When you care for it even when
your own 'good days' are few
and it sits on a window still
loving you.
POWER NAP by Stuti Sareen
aerial view of a street walked in
sudden focus on the snowman in Nyon
​
one knee buried in snow
on aimless walks around town
​
wishing to touch the spread of glitter
across the distant hill
as she stares at it from the parallel top
​
careless dips in the frozen green lake
as she focuses on the feeling of winter sun on her skin
​
climbing forbidden brick walls to empty her spray cans
as she continues roaming the empty streets at 3am
​
the sound of her alarm every morning
which is still mine now to remind
of that playful spirit
the confident walks
and thoughtless talks
​
When did I stop being free?
​
SKIN by Ishani Sengupta
it took a while
to get used to my strangeness
late summer blooms
and muted August light
while I drowned in rain
walking in Kandyland
maybe it was the bluegrass
or that dinner with wine
that I found I liked my skin
love may be the blue shift
but far beyond your blues now
how am I to explain
that I keep finding my own in me
not a flower child
but a forest girl
with purple leaves fluttering
on my city tabletop