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Open Poetry #45
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poddarku
Senior Member
since 2008-01-15
Posts 589
india

0 posted 2009-06-11 09:08 AM



Omens
-
The sweet aroma of rice; yonder bare fields;
on the stone the dark patches of water pitchers
and her looking at the sky where buzzards fly,
are completing the composition of waiting.

She has been waiting too long; too long she has made her man
hold his patience  all these while; believed peace will come.
Now these flying buzzards are looking ominous
like secret language which mystic nomads speak.

She trembles with the prospect of unknown evils.
A long wait for her son, returning from town,
from the all consuming town where he has gone
long, long, long time ago. But she has hoped for return.

She again watched for God’s language. Let him come.
=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar

clever talks delay friendship!

© Copyright 2009 poddar kushal - All Rights Reserved
steavenr
Member Elite
since 2003-11-17
Posts 4058

1 posted 2009-06-11 09:39 AM


this write paints a lovely story...a story with meaning...the best kind (IMHO) imagery & vision...nice
Margherita
Member Seraphic
since 2003-02-08
Posts 22236
Eternity
2 posted 2009-06-11 05:31 PM


Oh, a mother's heart will never stop waiting and praying and worrying ... because she loves.

This is so intense, it hurts.

Dear Ku, it's good to read your realistic stories and to connect with compassion with your characters.

Love,
Margherita

brneyedgrly
Senior Member
since 2009-06-08
Posts 1125
nowhere and everywhere
3 posted 2009-06-11 06:14 PM


She trembles with the prospect of unknown evils.
A long wait for her son, returning from town,
from the all consuming town where he has gone
long, long, long time ago. But she has hoped for return.

She again watched for God’s language. Let him come.


~oh, this hits me right in the heart...i wish my son was here right now...i'd give him a huge hug!  beautiful...

~I am the keeper of what he cast off~

OwlSA
Member Rara Avis
since 2005-11-07
Posts 9347
Durban, South Africa
4 posted 2009-06-12 12:24 PM


Your exquisite, sensitive, compassionate living painting has tears streaming down my cheeks with its beauty, its pain and how close it is to my situation, with regard to my daughter far away, physically in Australia, and emotionally a planet away from me.

I can never get over how English obeys your every stroke of the paintbrush, despite it being your second language.

Owl

[This message has been edited by OwlSA (06-13-2009 01:31 PM).]

BluesSerenade
Member Patricius
since 2001-10-23
Posts 10549
By the Seaside
5 posted 2009-06-12 10:05 PM


The anguish is so heartbreaking, the unknown felt so deeply.  
The prayers so real.  Outstanding poet you are.

Alison
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Member Rara Avis
since 2008-01-27
Posts 9318
Lumpy oatmeal makes me crazy!
6 posted 2009-06-13 11:57 PM


Kushal,

I think that your writing is just getting better and better. I feel her anguish as her eyes continue to search for him.  Sometimes we just can't let go of such a deep love.

Alison

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