V2
Lightning Man Growing Into A Cold Beard.
(For my Thatha)
Grandfather, married at fifteen
to a wisp of a nine year old.
Her father sent you to American college
you lectured thereafter
made home- spun cloth
walked your way to big business at Ahmadabad,
purchased a mill, had an ill omen accident
on that transaction day.
How I remember your Aryan like Dravidian skin,
white beard, long as Rapunzel's hair
with your satellites of poets
and you a savant literary planet.
That is the rise, the lightning, hot and flashing your glory.
Your sons
one a tame rabbit
one a vulture
one a python.
You saw the wealth and good name dwindle away
like Shah Jahan, you sat in a mental prison
gazing at cotton plants,
just reaching for a pod fell
broke your legs.
Thus bedridden, I plucked cotton flowers for you
those that had burst not to fame
but to wither away seen.
How you fingered the staple of fiber,
measuring with your palm the length and strength of fiber.
How gently I touched your beard no longer a frightened child
to see that it did not burn but lay cold as a conch.
(For My Thatha)
Grandfather, married at fifteen
to a wisp of a nine year old.
Her father sent you to American college
and you lectured thereafter
and made home spun cloth
and walked your way to big business at Ahmedabad,
purchased a mill, had an ill omen accident
on that transaction day.
How I remember your Aryan like Dravidian skin
and white beard, long as Rapunzel's hair
with your satellites of poets
and you a savant literary planet.
That is the rise, the lightning, hot and flashing your glory.
Your sons
one a tame rabbit
one a vulture
one a python.
You saw the wealth and good name dwindle away
like Shah Jehan, you sat in a mental prison
gazing at cotton plants,
and just reaching for a pod fell
and broke your legs.
Thus bedridden, I plucked cotton flowers for you
those that had burst not to fame
but to wither away seen.
And how you fingered the staple of fiber,
measuring with your palm the length and strength of fiber.
And how gently I touched your beard no longer a frightened child
to see that it did not burn but lay cold as a conch.
Lightning Man Growing Into A Cold Beard.
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- Posts: 2688
- Joined: 03 Jun 2016, 21:03
Re: Lightning Man Growing Into A Cold Beard.
Wow. This is gorgeous! My favorite of yours. No crits
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- Posts: 127
- Joined: 28 Aug 2020, 23:11
Re: Lightning Man Growing Into A Cold Beard.
Do you think I should take the many 'and(s') in the poem?
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- Posts: 2688
- Joined: 03 Jun 2016, 21:03
Re: Lightning Man Growing Into A Cold Beard.
The ands didn’t bother me. I liked the flow.
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- Posts: 127
- Joined: 28 Aug 2020, 23:11
Re: Lightning Man Growing Into A Cold Beard.
Okay thanks.
Re: Lightning Man Growing Into A Cold Beard.
This is fantastic, Siva, send it out.