Passage

 

Passage

An experimental poem

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

Postscript

Hakim and I stayed friends for life. We both loved maths and the music of the seventies. He has two kids and lives in Dubai. I have four kids and four grandkids in Australia. (A dozen in my clan).

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Cyril Stanley

My experiences of rebellions

Arya Sinhala