OPINION

poetry: whirling

February 28, 2010
temporal


said the cab driver
as he swooshed and swirled
through the desi roads
with cars and carts
and men and machines
rushing, idling, squeezing
with a foot on the pedal
and a hand on the horn
'it is not my fault'

fault? blame? confession?

adam would have smiled

quakes, tsunamis,
holocaust, ethnic cleansing
greed that blinds
individuals and nations
precariously countered
by grit, will and concern
for adam's progeny
by eve's children
who descend to salvage
flustered dignity

conflict borne of heaven
fermented by earth
moving in circles
between the many dazed
and the unconfused few
who whirl

hirsute adam
unabashed and shaved
would have revealed
mona's first smile
(leonardo tells me)
metonymy for
'not-my-fault'

love people who are in awe of words. words are the sole arbiter and the final survivor. desicritic editor, slave and slave-driver.
eXTReMe Tracker
Keep reading for comments on this article and add some feedback of your own!

Comments! Feedback! Speak and be heard!

Comment on this article or leave feedback for the author

Add your comment



Personal attacks are not allowed. Please read our comment policy.






Remember Name/URL?

Please preview your comment!