This is part of a series called ‘A sonnet to the world’, which I have been working on. You can read about the project here. The idea is to write a 14-line Shakespearean Sonnet for every country I visit (and hopefully and eventually, the whole world). And this one is for Seychelles.
Hanging around the horde of happily hand-holding honeymooners
And the rich and the elite. And the richest of the elite.
The lost backpacker just hums through his 90’s list of crooners
In a lonesome beach. Think of it, that’s quite a feat.
From Anse Royale to Beau Vallon, the buoyant beach
lay powdered with white sand and turquoise shades.
Sanctuary was no more a mirage. It was within reach.
of a soul that possessed neither tentacles nor blades.
And when the Takamaka-fueled voices of the night-owl
Belted away Creole songs, inspired by distant places,
Happiness was a state of mind, not an impossible goal.
And smiles sprung up inside. Not just on facades and faces.
In Mahe, they live just like the waters off the Anse Grand.
Calm and still. You get what you see. So transparent.
1) Seychelles is a honeymooner’s paradise, while the poet went there backpacking alone. So, you are not mistaken if you catch a glimpse of hankering for company, in the verse.
2) Anse Royale, Beau Vallon and Anse Grand, are some of the famous beaches of Seychelles. Mahe is the chief city, and capital, of the country. Takamaka is the local rum, which is a huge hit across the country. And Creole is the local language spoken here.
Check out other sonnets in this series, here.
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