Skip to main content

CaPoWriMo-10 (motherless andhadi)

mother is on vacation
in a foreign country
away from son and husband
leaving me to do the dishes

do the dishes - mind the spoons
don't land at the bottom
the tamarind doesn't clog the sink
the vessels don't clatter and clang
and bring on angry neighbours
while the clothes are washing

the clothes are washing
coloured one in first batch
towels and undies to go in the next
and then to be hung out

to be hung out
the outer clothes on the balcony
with a ladder and a stick
and the inner ones dripping
in the rear balcony

in the rear balcony the broom and mop
stand there grumbling silently
about the dusty stain bedecked floor

the dusty stain bedecked floor
piled over with books and gadgets
screaming loudly to be re-placed
on their respective shelves
which gloat and induce guilt
about the undone dusting

undone dusting and uncooked food
and unfolded clothes and unbought groceries
and unpaid bills and undisposed garbage
how did she manage them all
i need to know but
mother is on vacation

(Published in Cerebration 2011)


Popular posts from this blog

She's complicated

She's complicated. She'll charm you with charts, statistics and that corporate smile. But look into those eyes, they're fiercely bohemian. She's complicated. Her chatterings seem to resonate with happy sounds, but listen with the other ear, to an unhidden lament. She's complicated. Her silences agonise, her voice echoes in her absence. And yet there is a mild dread as her name flashes on the ringing phone. She's complicated. Sometimes she's a poetess, shallow, romantic, trying to hide a sardonic, world-weary wit. She's complicated. She could be a spiteful Fury, wrath unabated, but that's just to hide the lamb-hugging girl within. She's complicated. She's an enchantress, a fool, a tyrant, a nurse, an imp, a priestess, but she's generally a good friend. She's complicated. Published in Making Waves - A Poetry Anthology , ed. Pam & Bill Swyers; Swyers Publishing 2011. ISBN: 978-0-9843113-6-1.

Nellie, 1983

Very often the sun rises in warm, golden rays on opening buds, birdsong and dewdrops, and the stench of stale death. Very often the sun rises Upon mutilated men - blood drying over their eyes and gore-caked machetes rusting in their abdomens. Very often the sun rises over hyaenas fretting over the carrion going waste - they can eat no more, nor can the vultures. Very often the sun rises on a day already defeated - shrieking, screeching, screaming, demanding that it go back for there was peace in the night. Published in Tranquil Muse 2018.

The Flying Scotsman

Yont   brattlin  clood an seelent glen Tweetlin a-lood the ingine skirls this noisome train wi lanely men hame-comin whaur thair lassies birls whit lends thay awe, an whit dets thirls whit ailin mam, whit seekly bairn thair dreams forby the train-smeuk swirls bi new gless tour or auncient cairn thay ken nae sang, thaur herts made airn thair mynds full o the twalmonth tack regairdless o loch, pen or tairn thay anely think o whit thay lack ay but thinkna muckle o it ye an a, we're an aw in it Published in Amaravati Poetic Prism 2017 ed. Padmaja Iyengar, Cultural Centre of Vijayawada & Amaravati