Do you trust me? Will you take my hand and let me lead the way to a place transcending the boundaries of our reality? Let us get lost in tranquility – dancing to the majesty of the surroundings, feeling the rhythm vibrate through our bones. For as long as our hearts desire, this is our destination. Time is but a memory. Its existence leaves no trace on the path where we tread. There is only you, me, and the intensity of our belonging to each other.
I have been a fan of Balroop Singh’s poetry for many years now. She has a magical way of weaving words together that mesmerize and inspire, which explains the spot-on title for her new poetry collection, Magical Whispers.
This beautiful edition is divided into two segments: Magical Whispers and Whispers of Life. The first segment effortlessly captivates as we read verses that truly convey Singh’s love and connection to Mother Nature. Since I am an avid hiker and backpacker, I resonate fully with each line and image the author paints with her enchanting poetic style. The poems that stand out for me are Stream Whispers, Celestial Lake, Love is Love, and Whispers of Soul.
The second segment touches on various components of life such as: love, dreams, sorrow, fear, and perseverance. Singh’s character holds a strong conviction that although life may be full of shadows, light always seeps through even if in tiny dewdrops. Her poetry expresses the epitome of strength and hope of which life cannot be lived to the fullest without. My favorites are Remember Me, Betrayers, Sentinels, The Magic of Love, and Sublime Sky. And yet, although I list a few poems that move me, Singh’s collection in its totality transports me into tranquility and reflection. Her book graces my home library so that I can sink into the magic of her verses over and over again. I highly recommend adding this lovely poetry book to your home library, as well.
Balroop Singh, a former teacher and an educator always had a passion for writing. She is a poet, a creative non-fiction writer, a relaxed blogger and a doting grandma. She writes about people, emotions and relationships. Her poetry highlights the fact that happiness is not a destination but a chasm to bury agony, anguish, grief, distress and move on! No sea of solitude is so deep that it can drown us. Sometimes aspirations are trampled upon, the boulders of exploitation and discrimination may block your path but those who tread on undeterred are always successful.
When turbulences hit, when shadows of life darken, when they come like unseen robbers, with muffled exterior, when they threaten to shatter your dreams, it is better to break free rather than get sucked by the vortex of emotions.
Balroop Singh has always lived through her heart. She is a great nature lover; she loves to watch birds flying home. The sunsets allure her with their varied hues that they lend to the sky. She can spend endless hours listening to the rustling leaves and the sound of waterfalls. The moonlight streaming through her garden, the flowers, the meadows, the butterflies cast a spell on her. She lives in San Ramon, California.
I encourage you to visit Balroop at her blog: http://balroop2013.wordpress.com/. While there, you can peruse her full collection of poetry books that she has published and findother ways to connect with her.Take a breath and dive into the magic and beauty of her words.
The hummingbird sips with her lean, long bill, fluttering all about the painted petals, her wings like tiny propellers, and she is unaware of how lives have been altered this year. Not that she doesn’t care. That isn’t the case at all. But there is a job to be done. If not her, then who?
I am aware that Mr. Raging Fire stole my thunder, and honestly, it boils my insides, but certainly not selfishly. I reminisce on the good times when the people expressed their love as I made my entrance. How I gracefully entered into their lives wearing pomegranate reds, cinnamon browns, and squash yellows. The energy buzzed like a walk on the red carpet – a highly anticipated moment. My sweet fragrance beautified a stroll around the neighborhood. My cool touch refreshed, replacing summer’s harsh existence.
I worked with patience and diligence, brush and paint in hand to create my vibrant landscape. Lovely memories as vivid as the colors of my wardrobe… memories of yesteryear before Mr. Raging Fire barged in, interrupting the balance of the nature of seasons.
Now, a sense of dread has crushed that sought-after anticipation of my arrival. And yet, defeat has not prevailed. This new reality only means my effort must toughen up…paint and brush lie in wait at my fingertips. The artist deep within will continue to create for my lovely and loving people who appreciate the very essence of me.
Soft snow-white puffs float among the gleam, no filter Soon a clear blue view
Lauren Scott (c) 2020
(This was a welcomed surprise after smoke-filled air and sky for the last month. But the fires still burn and we continue to hold all of the fire victims in our hearts.) 💓💓
the world sings virus lyrics and lungs struggle to take in gray air. I can’t help noticing clouds parked on foreheads. Looking to the horizon, dusty cobwebs hang in each corner. It’s time to dim the lights out of memories, how life once was. Fingers itch to press life’s reset button. Answers remain ambiguous. I want to watch the sun breathe in and out and the moon ride the night as stars dance in the sky – trying to find my place in an ever-changing landscape.
As blue embraces the glow and pink shades shimmer, I liberate my worries then hope delivers. With beauty so near of a soothing deep sapphire, thoughts become clearer.
I attended a painting party sometime ago and this landscape was my first attempt at painting anything, except for walls in the house. The process was so much fun and it was interesting to see the final masterpieces of the other “students.” Not a single one was identical. They were all vibrant and magical in the same color scheme, but included details only distinctive to the artist. Then recently, a friend told me about Seguidilla poetry, which inspired me to write a poem to pair with the painting. And so, I present to you another first attempt. It’s good for the brain to step out of the box now and then and I hope you enjoyedboth. ~Lauren 💗
I stare at this page,
milk white as the blanketed ground in winter’s staging.
Where are the syllables to create
a mixture of magic?
I fear they have flown to faraway places, across desert dunes and boundless oceans and might not return so that I may tell him (again) how irreplaceable he is.
Instead, I’ll touch his lips with mine and steady myself in the arms of a man who is satisfied with my simple existence.
Romantic musings from years ago for this Monday…
Wishing you a peaceful day.
Lauren xo