On loss, reflection and hope: An Ekphrasis

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On loss, reflection and hope: An Ekphrasis.

The following series is our humble attempt at an Ekphrasis. For those who do not know, an Ekphrasis is the art of writing beautiful verse based on visual art. For this, we have curated a series of 9 rendered images accompanied by fitting poetry which exults the whims and flourishes of its multi-faceted meaning. Touching on subjects of love and loss, death and resurrection and genesis and apocalypse, we strive to evoke an insightful pathos among the audience through written and visual media. The render was done by Anantha Krishnan Nadamel accompanied by the poetry penned by Arun Jayaprakash.

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Darling, my spaceling.

Darling, my spaceling

What would you do when your world starts to burn?
What would you do when there ain't space left to turn?
Your brothers, your sisters, your friends and your home,
Smothered in lava, debris and burnt coal.

You're in a space where no human has been,
You're facing pain no human has seen.
And you cant now drown in a pool of despair,
You are the only hope Earth has to spare.

Creep, crawl and pick yourself up,
And dust yourself down to see that white light.
Darling, my spaceling, soar up through the night,
Into white space where the future is bright.

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A precarious stroll.

I smell molten coal, dried up leaves and the waft of lingering doom.
I hear crackling slag, rustling wood and the woeful cries of demise.
I see what I hear, and hear what I smell, all visions of doom and despair.
But I rack my mind, inside and out, to check where it all began.
I fluster and fumble,
Pester and crumble,
But I cannot point it out

And then I realise, the gift to recall, is void in a mind in trance.

A transfixing trance, bewitching and sly, left all our men beguile.
Little did I know, I was strolling a stroll, onto our death at once.

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A departure.

Spaceling, my darling,
Where are you off to?

Up beyond the stratos, where new life thrives on.

Spaceling, my darling,
Why leave us right now?

Why should i stay here,
In this lifeless pond?

Our Earth was a garden,
With rich greens and life.
Now look at this crater,
All dried up and burnt.

I see no answers,
Nor means of repair
Our earth is now barren,
No flora nor love.

Goodbye, my dear friend,
I hope your hope stays,
And seek a good future,
From all this decay.

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A blissful morn

The storm recedes
And clouds retreat.
The sun is back
In its rightful seat.

A blissful morn'
Of sounds and scents
Met the men
From deep slumber

A blissful morn
A thankful morn
Back with life
And all its wealth

And now it is time
To start afresh
With fervent zeal
For days ahead.

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For death rode too fast

Once you told me baby,
Till Death do us part.
I wish I didn't nod gaily,
For Death had rode too fast.

Swift was his hearse,
Swifter than our horse.
For he just rocked our loveboat,
With one fell swoop of fate.

And now I sit here crying,
'Midst burnt grass and decay.
Like a dried up treehead,
With no more leaves to hug.

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A frivolous time

A minute an hour,
An hour a day.
Clocks fail to keep up,
when in despair.

Deep despair,
Deeper than sea,
Opens a void,
Where time has no say.

I'm just a sick boy,
Seasick and numb,
Stuck in this limbo,
Lonely and scared.

And I have few dreams now,
Of sunshine and stars,
But how can I dream now?
With no bedtime as such

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Seasonal Lovers

We' re seasonal lovers addicted to change,
After green pastures, greener than green.
Greener than green?
What is that you say?
Is there a green that beats all that is green?
Look at you fancy, wildchild of greed,

There is no green that's greener, but greed.

I was your trophy, and you were mine too.
Makeshift mementos, bound to decay.
And decay did come by, disguised as time,
Taking the shine off our shallow keepsake.

But love is a game where winners may lose,
I was a winner, but this game I lost.
Lost to your greed, and mine all the same.
Remember,
we're seasonal lovers,
addicted to change.

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On sublimity

Splendid snowclad glaciers,
And frostbitten furry fern trees,
With monstrous moving monoliths,
Engulfed the spirit in me.

Lonely was i trodding,
In zigzags, circles and squares.
In search of answers, prodding.
To find questions more the same.

And in my seasoned reverie,
I stumbled upon a pike,
A beautiful misty valley,
A sight of pure sublime.

Sublime, sublime, what a sight!
It laid my questions to rest.
And filled my hollow casing,
With fervent terror and awe.

And there I felt my being,
Reduced to trinklets and toys.
No more queries to ponder
Nor answers thrilling to seek.

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A cloudful of dreams

We dreamed up a cloudful
Of beauteous dreams
Of spending each sunset
In each others hands.

We dreamed up a cloudful
Of trinklets and toys
To gift unborn children
That we hoped to have.

Clouds, clouds and clouds of dreams,
Flustered my vision of grim reality.
Slowly and slowly, these clouds cleared to pass
And shew me to your love, feigned and spurned at last.

Now i just live on my cloud full of dreams
Seeing you go bout, whispering dreams

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