Tuesday, 21 April 2015

[Poem] Ashes


I have used the stream of consciousness technique for the very first time in this poem. I would welcome your thoughts and comments. 
I have provided a link above to a voice recording of the poem.

smeared on bathed foreheads
In the morning
with sunlight streaming in through windows and every crack in the doors and walls
when the house is half asleep
a quick bucketful hauled and poured hurriedly by shivering hands at the backyard well
then prayers mingle with frankincense
in the puja room
with framed gods for walls

in the large pits 
remnants of sacrifices
propitiating gods for favours
children, jobs, wealth and health
where the devout bend in obeisance and then anoint their foreheads

offered in temples by priests as benediction
received with humility in the right palm
packed carefully by some in paper rolls
Or discarded by some in the pillar shafts
that grime the artwork over time

A fight for a cup
played by countries far removed
the ruler and the ruled
the commentary streaming through BBC
On a raspy radio
my father- stands the entire time close to the window
hearing through the noise visualizing every move of bat and ball

when leaves fall trembling in the breeze
 Scatter wantonly for bored boys to kick and mime at football
the gardener gathers all with a sigh
trussed in woven baskets
and burnt in a corner of the yard

by the moonlight
A huge bonfire lit
as we school children sat around
played games, sang songs
till we fell in exhausted heaps as the fire died down
and the morning breeze spattered ashen cinders on cold faces


that mark the final journey
where we all travel alone
a fire lit one last time
to consume and swallow
the smouldering fire that once burnt in our bellies

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