lizardly surprise

Life does spring surprises at you.

These days when the incessant drizzle does take a breather, the weather is near perfect. Having paid my hafta at the rain Gods' and with due permission, i do sometimes venture out for my irregular routine evening jog.

It gets dark pretty early these days. Also, (hopefully) brief irregular power cuts are to be expected.

One of these times when i was doing my laps around the park, i noticed a stone on the road. The good Samaritan that i'm known to be, i felt for the many cyclists and motorists who could trip or skid. It must also be regrettably noted in much finer and barely readable print that i have a proclivity towards kicking stones and pebbles. The number of pairs of shoes i tore or wore out kicking dirt DO NOT a funny count make.

Anywho, as i moved to kick the stone off the road, the stone sprung... err jumped at me. Startled, i jumped as well. Together, we did the frog trot for a good ten seconds which it survived and then moved on to croak another day. Perhaps kiss another day ? you know the fable, you know the drill !!!

Oddly enough this incident reminds me of a childhood memory. I'd stuck my hand in my pocket to fetch a gummy bear but what i actually found was a lizard's tail. A real one at that. GO FIGURE.

For you, a thousand times over.

You were a perfectly encapsulated morsel of a good past,
a brushstroke of color on the gray, barren canvas that our lives had become.

For you, a thousand times over.

Thank you, Khaled Hosseini for giving words to the expressionless. If i ever get to unburden via a monologue, those would be my first and last lines respectively.

Round # 1

Theme for round # 1 is flowers. Hoping to get to round # 2 next week... Need all the luck. The longer this lasts, the competition gets that much tougher, the photographs get that much better !!! round # 2 will be landscape photography.

UPDATE: I got booted in the very first round. Apparently, the first photograph (blue flower) has very low contrast and doesn't translate well on print (which sadly is true, I should've checked earlier).

memo-ires

Streams of desire dry even as the eyes well up.
Rivers of sorrow swell and swirl in grieving silence.
Stifled heartbeats speak up in muted whispers.
All horrifically fighting for one last claim.
The right to keep one's very own pain.

For pain is a reminder of better times.
Where every memory is knotted in time.
The times when the seasons sang to tune.
when memories were made to relive in dreams.