Sunset


SUNSET:
 
Another day slain.
Puddles of blood wash the Ganges red,
dismantling heaps of filth,
metal ash, acid stains,
entails, un-formalin-ed, and
superfluous dreams,
toxic, toxins.
 
The tinkers are home. Rag-picking kids
doze in evening schools -a
bright eyed spark in the mediocrity-
dish-wash pavements: red,
green polka-blinks, all day
amusing foreign lenses documenting poverty.
 
Oily vermilion stains on
Banyan barks, empty
Ghats expecting apparitions of the
British Raj, some tawny eyes glaring
at far-away shores
beyond spice money, exotic whores.
 
Tide-fed moss licks my feet,
liverworts hum lullabies,
lights zoom across the suspended bridge-
a blur of lines, rounds,
and smoke, just gleam and glitter,
nothing more.
 
The monsoons have gone,
erasing blemishes from her watery face,
scrubbed smooth, a satin
velvety red, rippling, whispering
too many words, to
identical shores, till business goes to bed.
I sit alone, mourning none, listening to silence.
 
© Mohana Das
 
 

Prompts:

i. One Single Impression- http://onesingleimpression.blogspot.com/
 
ii. Carry on Tuesday- http://carryontuesdayprompt.blogspot.com/2011/10/carry-on-tuesday-128.html

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22 thoughts on “Sunset

  1. Mohana, first timer, found you at Poets United. The way you splashed red all over the page in the first stanza, marvelous. And as the niece of an “Ugly American” who once lived in India and spoke badly of the impoverished, I’ve always longed to visit and make some real soul connections. It’s true – most Westerners see the slums as interesting vacation pictures. I see them as the result of the disparity between rich and poor. My uncle was rich. I am comfortable now but was poor and homeless. You have captured this world beautifully, and I thank you. Amy Barlow Liberatore http://sharplittlepencil.wordpress.com/2011/10/31/lost-soul-sun-whirl/

    • Thank you so much, Amy, for reading through. I have tried presenting a picture of the city I live in, and the many aspects of it. Most Westerners see poverty the way you describe, I hope someday they realize the pain behind all those award winning “slum-photography”. After all we are the ones who can help close this bridge, and make the world I better place.
      God bless.

  2. wow mohana – this was a beautiful capture with vivid and palpable images…Puddles of blood wash the Ganges red…what an opening line and then you lead us all the way down into the silence..

  3. A very powerful poem! The beauty shines through in your descriptions, while at the same time peeling back that glossy veener to a reality. I really felt an ache for the beauty of where you live, for what can be as much as an ache for what needs to be done, for how much has been damaged and taken.
    A poem to linger upon the conscious of any reader. Very impressive!

  4. Thank you for joining Poets United. I have added your blog to our blogroll so others can discover you and your wonderful poetry. Poets United is what you make of it so explore, comment often and it will lead to folks doing so in return. We look forward to visiting your blog and reading your poetry.

    Ink runs from the corners of my mouth
    There is no happiness like mine.
    I have been eating poetry.
    ~Mark Strand

  5. Pleasure to be here and read your poem.. it’s beautiful…you have expressed so well…but then its true that cameras roll.. well I can say with surity that most innocent and pious smiles too are found on the faces that represent poverty… God bless you.. I invite you to my page…not as prolific a writer.. but enjoy writing within the limits of my knowledge of english..

  6. Every once in a while when I read such a poem it reminds me how long I have to travel in the creative learning process.!Sigh.

    The great thing about your poem is it’s simplicity.The pain, the resignation, the reality, the history and it’s impact on the future, is captured so well in the robes of simplicity.

    Thanks for crafting such a beautiful poem.It was a pleasure reading it.

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