100 Words since 1997
View(s):Skin
Her skin, like rose petals –
Soft, silky, shiny.
She – a stunner.
Walking on the catwalk –
Tall, graceful, gorgeous.
Thousands clapping
Glorious cheers ringing –
Proud, oh so pleased.
How quickly time flies!
Years? Aeons?
Now –
She sits on a cushioned chair –
Humming a tune –
Skin wrinkled,
Body crumpled,
Beauty –
Only skin deep.
Priscilla Pereira
Next to Her
The world freezes.
In a blink of an eye,
You are caught,
Naturally.
In my vicinity.
I take you in.
Involuntarily.
Taut outline,
Of the shoulders.
Elegant height
Perfectly moulded muscles,
Wanting me,
To wrap myself,
Around you,
Like a greedy parasite.
Deceitful, playing eyes.
Heart ripping smile
Sensuous tone, paradise
Corners of that mouth,
A succulent illicit,
Glob of chocolate
Thick whisps of hair,
Imprisoned within my fingers.
All courage summoned,
I take a step,
Towards you.
It has to be said,
This torture to end.
I turn,
Throw a stray smile,
And sit down.
Next to You
The world unfreezes.
Shane Muthuthanthri
Skinned
She was gaily strolling in the park
As a young boy sped by her on a bike.
“Be careful, little one!” She called.
“Remember, it’s not a trike!”
With a laugh, the boy sped on.
And it was getting dark.
The lights soon came on,
And with it a bang and a scream.
She hurried to the noise,
And what did she see?
The boy, with both hands on his left knee – Skinned.
Brian Fernando
Lost Glow
Her sun-tanned skin
Was bleached to
A soft, smooth ivory.
He could hardly believe
His ears.
His best friend was now
Miss Glowing Skin.
She seemed to glow brilliantly
Posing with a splendid crown
Over her gleaming black locks.
He could see she was
Over-vivacious,
Smiling, giggling.
But somehow more stranger than friend.
Unusual shyness washed over him.
And he felt a homesickness
Deep inside.
A homesickness
For his lost best friend,
Who now glowed
Elsewhere.
Rebekah Angela Fernando
From Boon to Bane
I stole a furtive glance
At the bowed down head.
Then, her bag fell down
And she was forced to look up.
Seeing her anguish
I gathered the contents for her.
She smiled, a grateful smile
That shone through
Her tortured facial skin.
I felt I’d seen her before.
She must’ve seen recognition
Or question in my eyes,
For she spoke:
Yes, she’d been the face
Of ‘Beauty’ soap,
Which had brought fame
Then love, alas, that ended
In jealous accusations,
And acid on her face.
The burns had healed,
But the obvious repulsion
Her face now caused
Still hurt.
D de Silva
The Circle of Life
Leaning against the doorframe,
She stares at her calloused hands
From years and years of hard work.
Her mind takes her back
To the time she had stubby fingers.
Gripping a pencil,
Struggling with words, numbers.
A hint of smile colours her face
As she remembers the day,
Her fingers caressed
The wedding silks.
The time she cradled,
A child in her arms.
Her gaze drops down
To her hands again.
The skin which was once
Smooth and unblemished,
Is now dry and wrinkled.
Anupama Samaranayake
Snake Skin
Draped limply on the twigs
Of the dhung tree
Where the breeze puffed
And played with its lightness
A dry husk hung
Scaly from top to tail
Which the snake had sloughed.
She eased herself out
With a gleaming
Freshly minted skin,
Looped and coiled
And hid her new self
From hawk’s eyes
And mongoose paws.
Kamala Gunasekera
Still her King
He searched in desperation
For a sign of recognition
In her white hollow eyes;
They were blank.
Once fully blown rosy lips
Were now slightly parted
Revealing a few scattered yellow teeth.
Gone was her beauty;
For five children,
And for himself.
But never a grumble,
Always cheerful;
Love personified,
He often thought.
She did all for him
He WAS her king
Memories flooded his eyes
And a drop of tear jumped out of the brim
On to her shrivelled dry skin.
Sensitivity hit the memories.
Her crooked fingers
Attempted to grasp
His shivering hand.
He IS still her king.
N. Dilhari Fernando
| Thank you for your contributions to the 100 Word page on ‘Skin’ a prevalent theme of many contributions was how skin best captures the passing of time:Of decaying. Also how skin best captures the superficial ideal of beauty. The theme for December is “Ink”. Please send in your contributions before December 5 to Madhubashini Dissanayake-Ratnayaka, C/O The Sunday Times, No. 8, Hunupitiya Cross Road, Colombo 2. N.B. Work sent to this page may be edited. |