Favorite flavour

Someone stole my favourite flavour and lurked away deep beneath the sea.
He even allowed himself the liberty to devour the daisies and the bright morning breeze.
But little did he figure out the perplexed Rover whose White boat he deserted. 
Along came the Robin. He crooned and cajoled her lest she fell into a slumber.
 
The Rover sailed away to a fascinating brook.
The mellow shadows and streaks of moonbeams set her free. 
Old flavours, accompanied by new records and Polka fancies swayed her. 
All she could think of was piecing together her broken thoughts and re-inventing her favourite flavour.

LaElLa

She walked in, longing for a tranquil moment.

La lluvia played with her thoughts, leading her to phases of glory and torment.

Characters flew out of those fantasy books, embraced her into their world.

She walked in, longing for a tranquil moment.

El Pájaro took her by surprise, introduced her to objects of affection and a series of omens.

A formless blurry image gave her magic cinnamon tarts, brought her to a small cottage.

She walked in, longing for a tranquil moment.

La Guitarra strummed out a dark melody, leaving her low yet content.

Life made sense now. She was prepared for the stage.

The Ocean Cat

Felinemar sees the world through his blue lens.
His whiskeyed whiskers embrace silence.
He drowns into nicotine nights and 'Pulp Fiction'.
This Lady-charmer is all wit and mambo.

"Mean reds"

 

She looked around. 

Her mind like the craggy bricks and the discerning wall-clock. 

An inkling, an appetite yet the delay. 

She clung to the soggy night and the resolute influence.

Children of the Sun by Sharanya Biswas and Sebanti Chatterjee

I sat by the river and it echoed

Those very words

That the wind whispered to me the other night.

It sang for the night,

It sang for what might

Map out the future clouds of thought.

The water flows but the river stays

Still, changing only with the eons.

The walls seem brittle

But the house promises warmth,

As we step inside,

Greets the spirit of life.

Life in that moment just is,

No past no present and no future.

It’s for us to nurture and grow,

To let it rain and snow

The delights, pain and everything more

For now and again.

To pour again and again

On cloudy days and passionate nights

When dreams unfold and our masks cry

We are the children, the children of the Sun.

Till the very end we shall run

Over mountain and stream

Over blood and sweat

Over hope and regret

For we are

The children of the Sun.

Act strange!

Dream on princess!
Soar through the fleecy clouds.

Play along lad!
Exploit your agile expressions.

Discover yourself woman!
Rip apart all those forbidden moments.

Run away little kid!
Lock yourself inside the polka train.

Far apart

And as you carefully caress all those tricky notes,
the melodic surprises make room for the much awaited encore.

But I am no longer oblivious of your saccharine sonata,

All the same am delighted each time you relocate your bow.

You suddenly evaporate into the sinister night,

my snooping gaze encounters your vacillating ways.

But every time you sing to me a charming ballad,

I lose myself yet again thinking 'let this be the final act'.

And you run into me one of these days,

I smell the coldness in your breath.

And I wonder who managed to steal our verbal row.

Alas! Before I find my answer, curtain falls and you take a bow.