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Open Poetry #49
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Cari
Member
Posts 411
Englnand

0 posted 2016-01-11 07:18 PM




The pen pauses
Pervasive memories
Intrude
India calls to favoured ears
Voices in an Edwardian summer
Come, come home
~
Cloud shadows
Wander the foothills
Hawk Eagles
Circle the late afternoon
round a ruby sun
Resting cool on the snow peaks.
~
Market smells
Bael fruit, pomegranate
Cinnamon and urine
Cries of the barrow pushers
Waltzing Cobras’
Dance for your pleasure
~
Self mutilated
For the price of life
The legless beggar
Offers the proffered bowl
For coin or spit
To your fancy
~
Simla, quietened by moonlight
Orchestra strings fade as
Victorian maidens, silk and organza
Escape to the gardens
Searching for a lover
Among the camellias, under the stars
~
Retrospective morals
Trample your values
Under heels of lesser men
But listen
Still the dawn comes up like thunder
out of China ‘cros the Bay!

© Copyright 2016 Cari - All Rights Reserved
DaysofView
Member
since 2014-04-01
Posts 433
Just A Slice Of The Pie
1 posted 2016-01-11 07:44 PM


There is so much sadness and heartbreak in places like India and Africa its hard to read of it in any other way. Good poem though Cari. Your last name wouldn't be Nation would it? j/k

It was just a thought which made them run. It was just an act that killed them.

JerryPat2
Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975
South Louisiana
2 posted 2016-01-11 08:38 PM


A lot of street sounds and smells in this downright cool write, Cari. You gave the street harmony and texture. I so enjoyed my passing through the streets as I read your descriptive words and vibrant lines, and I am better for it. Congratulations. Clap!Clap! Take a bow!!!

~ If they give you ruled paper, write sideways. ~

ice
Member Elite
since 2003-05-17
Posts 3404
Pennsylvania
3 posted 2016-01-12 06:55 AM



"Still the dawn comes up like thunder
out of China ‘cros the Bay!"

Perhaps it was not the sun coming up, that was seen, but the glow of fire from the British Navy burning Beijing?

As always you have caught my attention, poem title, and poem..

"Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance."
Carl Sandburg

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