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. 

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