Passage
Passage
An experimental poem
3 min readAug 30, 2022
A lad’s experience on a sweaty afternoon in the seventies.
Iwalk through the sand
In forty degrees of heat
Shoes covered in sand
And feet feeling the beat
Entering the building
The lift smells of garbage
Cannot get into the lift
So I take the stairs with courage
Onthe second floor
Hakim, in his school uniform
‘Will you come later today?’
‘I need help with maths and more.’
‘Sure, buddy, see you at five.’
Sweat pouring out of ears
Vest soaking wet
To the third floor, a few more stairs
Anugly mess next door
Slippers and dusty shoes
Scattered everywhere
Disgusted, I open my door
Rush past the wall cabinet
Past the large chairs
Start up the AC
The AC thunders
Iput on the stereo
Pushing a cassette and presto
Rod Stewart is rocking
And I am soaking
Get into my room
Unfinished books
Girlfriend’s picture
On my bedside nook
Iundress fast
bathroom I dash
It has no lock
Soak my sweat away
Water so hot
On this sweltering day
Change into silly shorts
Dash to the kitchen fast
S
Serving rice and curry
From pots and pans
I am so hungry
A plate filled to the brim
Stop the stereo
Switch the television on
Enjoy my hot meal
Watching the small screen fun
The ‘Brady Bunch’ is on
I want six kids
That day will come soon
They will be my bliss
A tanka is a five-line poem with a syllable pattern of 5–7–5–7–7. Here is a rewrite of the poem in tanka style:
Sand in my shoes
Heat and dust everywhere
I enter the building
Garbage in the lift
I climb the stairs
Hakim waits for me
In his school uniform
He needs help with maths
I promise to come later
Sweat pours from my ears
To the third floor
An ugly mess next door
Slippers and shoes
I open my door
Disgusted and tired
The AC thunders
Rod Stewart rocks the stereo
I dash to the bathroom
Hot water soothes me
I change into shorts
Rice and curry
From pots and pans
I fill my plate
The Brady Bunch on TV
I dream of six kids
Heat and dust outside
Cool and calm inside
I enjoy my meal
Watching the small screen
They will be my treasure
Iwalk through the sand
In forty degrees of heat
Shoes covered in sand
And feet feeling the beat
Entering the building
The lift smells of garbage
Cannot get into the lift
So I take the stairs with courage
Onthe second floor
Hakim, in his school uniform
‘Will you come later today?’
‘I need help with maths and more.’
‘Sure, buddy, see you at five.’
Sweat pouring out of ears
Vest soaking wet
To the third floor, a few more stairs
Anugly mess next door
Slippers and dusty shoes
Scattered everywhere
Disgusted, I open my door
Rush past the wall cabinet
Past the large chairs
Start up the AC
The AC thunders
Iput on the stereo
Pushing a cassette and presto
Rod Stewart is rocking
And I am soaking
Get into my room
Unfinished books
Girlfriend’s picture
On my bedside nook
Iundress fast
bathroom I dash
It has no lock
Soak my sweat away
Water so hot
On this sweltering day
Change into silly shorts
Dash to the kitchen fast
S
Serving rice and curry
From pots and pans
I am so hungry
A plate filled to the brim
Stop the stereo
Switch the television on
Enjoy my hot meal
Watching the small screen fun
The ‘Brady Bunch’ is on
I want six kids
That day will come soon
They will be my bliss
A tanka is a five-line poem with a syllable pattern of 5–7–5–7–7. Here is a rewrite of the poem in tanka style:
Sand in my shoes
Heat and dust everywhere
I enter the building
Garbage in the lift
I climb the stairs
Hakim waits for me
In his school uniform
He needs help with maths
I promise to come later
Sweat pours from my ears
To the third floor
An ugly mess next door
Slippers and shoes
I open my door
Disgusted and tired
The AC thunders
Rod Stewart rocks the stereo
I dash to the bathroom
Hot water soothes me
I change into shorts
Rice and curry
From pots and pans
I fill my plate
The Brady Bunch on TV
I dream of six kids
Heat and dust outside
Cool and calm inside
I enjoy my meal
Watching the small screen
They will be my treasure
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