Monsoon Moment

Loneliness of the Long Distance Traveller

Monsoon Moment

A warm wind washes the forecourt
Palms sway - lithe dresses on a line
Droplets splatter the dwarapalaka
he dances round the puddles - a black
faced shaker faqir. Raj ribons prominent 
an unmentionable age

Guards in Empire Khaki wave me through
heads wagging side to side as Hindus do
The lift groans to a stop - braying recalcitrant

I climb the stairs to the third. Saturdays
the hall would be packed with accolades
and Chivas Regal tipplers and the 

Exquisiteness of Shamsham Begun

My trunk call to Holland rings, my
neighbour from across the corridor
he waves - beckons me. Music and colour
flood from his suite redolent with Arabian
cooking. I sense his new bride nearby - timing

I take the call, her voice sweetens
my day from a million miles away
The lights flicker then fail. My room
illuminated from a street lamp

I see from across the buildings
a young man sitting, seemingly
so close I can touch, fussed over
carressed by his mother

From the shadows I see his sisters
flounce gaily - sensuously around them 
in silk colour-splashed saris. My desire
is to join them 

The monsoon tail slashes the window
Are you there?
Yes, I am here
drawn to this dissipated cameo
like the shutterings of an old film

Images of beautiful young women 
flitter through my mind - that 
stay with me for some time

I miss home

Reviews

[NeiL ArandA]

Another experience from a distant past brought to life by this well crafted poem . Good to see you back . Frank .

[Frank]

Thanks Neil, how are you?

[NeiL ArandA]

You are welcome ... I am well Just slowing down a little bit .

[jacob erin-cilberto]

you really paint a vivid picture with your words...it is always fun to visit other places, but that longing for home gets overwhelming...

[Frank]

Thanks for reading a
and comment David, nie to see you :)

[jacob erin-cilberto]

always enjoy your reads, Frank..

jacob