Thís Paiηting Çhamber

(Re)ad(just)

athelas1 — Sat, 20 Aug 2011 12:58:07 +0000

Time leaks into vacuum with ease, like tail of a cat. I stare into the darkness, digging into the emptiness with hungry intensity. A flash of smile, a passing look, untold words — hallucinatory, worthless mental figments dripping into pigments of black — evaporate. Replacing them are dentures dropped into a fizzing solution, an eyeball in formaldehyde, scribbles on wall. And they fade as fast as they feast upon my mind. Darkness again. Staring again. Stare better.

Filed under: UnSphinxed

Frayed

athelas1 — Sat, 30 Jul 2011 16:08:57 +0000

So it is a blow to the card-house of hope. Smithereens.

The world whirls. In flakes and scales. Red.

Filed under: UnSphinxed

Fray

athelas1 — Wed, 13 Apr 2011 07:36:38 +0000

Light slips away from the sky like blanket from skin, and a sudden chill steals over the soul like darkness upon heart. It is falling apart, what appeared to be invincible in the beginning. Fraying. A garment gorged by gnats. A furniture maimed by time.

The planks beneath my toes creak. I look around, the decaying furniture, the musty clothes, the old clock ticking. They look like objects of curiosity under the gloom, secreting the sweet sweat of past.

The air is redolent of wet seasons, fresh, raw, full of crickets and water-skippers. It is wafting in from the window, which opens to a sky of bruises, black and purple. The few clouds that are there float in fuzzy red, twisting and dispersing and congregating again.

Beneath the zenith, a vast paddy field fans out, swaying in unison with the screeching wind, daring the sky to spew rain (blood) again. A mute lightning zaps across the red masses. The clouds snarl. The wind hollows. And in that instance, the lonely scarecrow that is stabbed at the heart of the field lights up his Cyclops eye and smirks.

It is a strange world out there. Why does it look and smell and sound so eerily familiar?

Something sidles up against my ankle, and I shudder.

Filed under: UnSphinxed

7: The Elder Wand

athelas1 — Wed, 22 Dec 2010 18:11:55 +0000

A little word,
A little wave,
A little whisper,
A little wink.

And the wand twirls in the air, darkly elegant.

The air roars, awash with golden light.

Filed under: UnSphinxed

Library Policeman

athelas1 — Tue, 14 Dec 2010 16:48:07 +0000

Eccecuse me, your books have been long overdue.

I will give you one more day, to c’fess up, to clear up this messy presence of an absence in my library …

Or I will clear you up instead.

Filed under: UnSphinxed

Elution

athelas1 — Thu, 04 Nov 2010 12:55:10 +0000

Two slender shadows pass by each other under the bluish light of night, silently.

It feels like an ad hoc secret — the act of passing by each other, acknowledging each other’s presence mutely with straight gaze and indifferent expression, as if it is a dream or a thought, unintended and unbidden.

There is no word, no sign, no gesture. Shoulders drop. Pace lengthens. The sky bleeds off its last lustre and the wind wipes off the tear-stained ground with dried leaves.

Two slender shadows cross paths and separate. The illusion is nearly unmistakable. The elution has barely started.

Filed under: UnSphinxed

Eyesaw

athelas1 — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 16:01:53 +0000

Your penetrating gaze,
An aura of austerity,
A bag of mystery;
I looked into you,
Eyes met eyes,
And you kept them shut
Even when they were open.

Riddles are aplenty,

So we eyed each other,
Briefly, briefly,
And then you blinked,
(Or maybe I did)
And the spidery line we held
For that one moment
Came undone.

Signs little,

It is becoming clear now,
In the nakedness of this blind magic,
In the darkness of this lidness affinity,
Vision remains vision.

Questions unanswered.

Filed under: UnSphinxed