Poetry/Art/Prose
And Here He Comes…
Reciprocal Nature Prompt — The Rising Sun
An angel, robed in spotless white, Bent down and kissed the sleeping Night. Night woke to blush; the sprite was gone. Men saw the blush and called it Dawn. — Laurence Dunbar, Dawn
Prologue: The Sky Talk
An alarm went off somewhere in the cosmic complex. The sky-man wakes from a doze after a night’s labour, rubbed his eyes and rolled his pages of roster. The stars, the meteors, the milky ways stand in queue for their handover, after a busy, busy night. How they love when clouds takes the stage, and they can shed their glitter-coats and find a corner for power naps. But tonight, the clouds disappeared leaving the sky clear and dark. And the moon, in its shiny, silvery, silky presence did lit up the sphere flowing in water, interspersed with land mass.
As the beauty of night slowly vanishes in oblivion, it’s time for a handover.
Before the night-blue fades And the stars are quite gone, I lift my head At the noiseless tread Of the angel of dawn.
I hear no word, yet my heart Is beating apace; Then in glory all still On the eastern hill I behold his face. — Bliss Carmen, The Traveller
The Story: Down Under
Burning a thousand dreams softly, the night calls it a day. On earth, not knowing when the eastern sky will light up unaware, the windows, doors open to welcome the morning gold. The ash of dawn now mildly pink, paint the sky. The ocean green in anticipation, earth a soft mud touched by the graying night.
Flakes of rosy and sapphire lights, now a hand of purple, dark and deep, appear in the lighted sky, edged with silver sheen. A metamorphosis to behold, the sky a kaleidoscope to a child’s eye, flashes in white and floating gold, like liquid paint being thrown on a canvas —
And the blinding shimmery ball slowly rises, blowing kisses to the cloudy dressing room, from the lips of the dark.
The bated wait gives way to chirping beak-lets, as light begins another days work. The morning makes a splash when she bathes in the disappearing dew, pinching a poetic mind to wonder at the vastness of destiny and triviality of life! The sun travels over mountains ,welcomed by forests, where trees dry their leafy hair in its shimmery light stream, blossoms laughing in glee. It travels the valleys, the rivers, carrying the ships of life.
The silvery rays touch the earth. It mints gold. And the day grows wings. Cavorting with the wind, playing with buzzing bees, fluttering butterflies, the stirring of tea cups, the day moves, wondering at the beauty, magic, inspiration and hope, a rising sun ushers in. Passing by a window, she hears the radio humming along with a shaky voice:
Om Japa Kusuma Sankaasham Kaashya Peyam Mahaa Dyutim | Tamorim Sarva Papaghnam Pranathosmi Divakaram || Oh Divine One, who is as magnificent as the Hibiscus flower To you, the blessed son of Kashyapa, how powerfully radiant. To you, the fierce enemy of darkness, and the One who washes away all sins, To your brilliant infinite light, I humbly bow. — English Translation, Sun Salutation Mantra
Down under, at some corner of this planet, a cuckoo called. The cuckoo, which resides in a discreet alarm clock, showing time as 5:00 am. As early birds hurry to catch a glimpse of the morning news, the potted plants get their share of water sprinkles, the milk-man, the paper-boy commence their day with c-r-i-n-g-c-r-i-n-g of their worn out cycles, a nocturnal rhythm-ed insomniac finally finds sleep….
I’ll tell you how the sun rose, — A ribbon at a time. The steeples swam in amethyst, The news like squirrels ran.
The hills untied their bonnets, The bobolinks begun. Then I said softly to myself, “That must have been the sun!” — Emily Dickinson, Day
Author’s Notes: The power of nature. One event, million eyes and billion vision. An event which is a routine, yet never ceases to tire us. Everyday the sky is dressed up in a new attire and you wonder at the versatile, colour-laden cupboard the sky possesses. Such is the force, that humans spend years beholding the beauty of a rising sky, giving it a permanent bench between the eye lids, carry the image to study the science, the philosophy and the poetry in it. Such is the impact, that a nocturnal-rhymed, disease-induced insomniac sits up and wonders how to approach this prompt, when it lands in her ‘inbox’, because she has more fingers in her hands than the number of sun rises in her repository. Thus with some foggy memory and dollops of imagination, she sits to write about ‘Sun Rise’. As the request comes from a special corner you can’t say no😊:
— “What lovely photos and definitely a wonderful nature prompt:) Thank you!”
— Waiting for your lovely painting & story 💙😃
So, thank you Dr. Preeti Singh for some wonderful Nature Prompt for Reciprocal, a place for hand holding and camaraderie. Thank you Yana Bostongirl and of course Sahil Patel for creating this wonderful space for reciprocation.
With Neera Handa Dr
Some deep, wise thoughts on a rising day, by Dr. Fatima Imam , as a beautiful response to the prompt, read her Here.
Joyce Nielsen wrote an insightful piece on rising sun and its impact on us humans giving anecdotal evidence of this impact in The-magical-rising-sun-has-captivated-man-forever.
There is a way poets approach topics. Find Mia Verita’s take on the prompt which she serves with a powerful personal story and wonderful images.
Thank you for your visit and engagement. Much appreciated!
Well, you cannot talk about sun and leave without mentioning flower:
