Poetry for me is a way of living, it comes out of nowhere and I have to write it down. How I write, what I write, I decide. I am not asking you to be judgemental. I am gifted with the ability to see beyond the obvious.
Monday, December 12, 2005
All is lost
“What am I supposed to do now?” he asked himself looking at his basket of bananas.
“How do I tell him to let her go? Holding on to the past has lost us everything, our banana grooves, depleted our finances, and for what?”
“Here I am selling the bananas from the same garden which I owned once and all he does is look at her grave.”
“There he goes, sitting always at the same place. And never giving another thought for me or the poor kids of his.”
The old man kept talking to himself. Their only source of livelihood now was selling bananas in front of the mausoleum which his son had built for his beloved wife…..after selling everything they had owned.
Picture courtsey: Ashish Gorde from Eureka Express( see my blog link)
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3 comments:
the man who made that building is an exhibitionist. he could have it used it for better things.
Yes t b g, we must! But we do not!
Yes, poison but does anyone care?
Thanks for liking it!
I enjoyed going back in to your old posts
I hope you will alow me to interview for our coming issue of LIP (www.livinginpoetry.blogspot.com)
Do let me know
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