Friday, October 11, 2013


OctPoWriMo 2013 day 11

The trinkling of window chimes,
the rickshaw puller's horns,
with the cries of the woman
who sells fish,
I wake up from bed.

The mild roars
of the passing clouds,
the hustling of the wind,
My sunken heart misses a beat
It is going to rain.

The chanting of the priest
in the nearing pandal,
the rhythmic sound
heard through the mike,
the lovely scent of the incense
my senses wide awake.

The rolls of laughter
of the children,
the giggle of the teenage girls,
the shout like calls of the
the sound of the conch shell.

and I smile
as i feel the happiness
all around.

Pandal is a place erected in an open space where Goddess Durga is worshiped for five days.


Annis Cassells said...

Lovely poem. "The mild roars ..." I love the connection of these two ideas that seem opposites. Thank you. xoA

Tempest Nightingale LeTrope said...

Sounds wonderful. I would enjoy visiting.

Ankit Sharma said...

Nicely written. Rains are bringing the excitement of puja to a halt. I can sense it through the words you've written.