DAILY RITUAL

Intro: I am woken up at midnight and put on a flight. Received at the airport, I am taken downtown in a van. From there to my destination on a bicycle. I get to repeat this everday. Who am I? forms the rest of the story! 


DAILY RITUAL

I arrived by midnight flight in the city,

He received me half asleep, I felt pity.

We drove downtown,

Reached a small godown.

He handed me to a teen,

Who knew not how to preen.

After half an hour on his job,

Onto his bicycle, he asked me to hop.

A rickety ride of ten long minutes,

Drained me out of all my spirits.

Cursing his callous behaviour,

I clutched on to the huge carrier.

Flight to van to bicycle, I was peeved,

Drastic decline in mode, he paid no heed.

A bit hazy outside, everything still,

Left me trembling in biting chill.

Rode into an avenue, he put an abrupt brake,

Caught by surprise, I began to shake.

A tiny villa in spotless white,

Stood against the misty dawn light.

Small garden full of blossom,

I gaped at it with mouth wide open.

But what followed next was completely jarring,

Caught me by my neck and flung me without caring.

Flying in air for what seemed ages,

Landed with a thud between the purple sages.

I lay still, shocked in fright,

Dampened by dew, fallen from last night.

Door creaked open, a lady came into sight,

Old and slender, medium in height.

Muttering under her breath, she lifted me gently,

Went inside and put me down absently.

Left alone and stranded, I was thinking to flee,

When she came back with a pot of tea.

Sitting on the couch, she put me in her lap,

Wrinkled fingers shook me open with a flap.

She started her day in strict discipline,

Morning tea, over headlines to begin.

As she sat sipping, she seemed comical,

Pouring over me with her monocle.

Hmm..settled in this house for today,

“After all tommorrow is another day.”

It will find me on my way,

To a new place and new people,

My life, a never ending sequel.

© Gomathi 2019
Views: 1502
critique and comments welcome.

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Slovitt
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birth and death, how to exit the cycle. the process of your poem a microcosm of your journey.

niggles about the writing: several weak, forced rhymes i.e. teen/preen, job/hop, peeved/heed. you might reconsider the necessity for rhyme throughout, perhaps shake it up and use intermittent rhymes, the ones that more naturally present themselves for a rough structure, for unifying sounds. you’d have to be brave enough to eschew strictly complying with the form, for creating your “own” form, but it might be be a better format for grappling with your ideas. anyway,

an admirable attempt to address “big” concerns.

Mitch
Member

Namaste. A good narrative and sense of a ‘journey’ being made. Writing in a second language is always difficult; I’ve tried French and Japanese and failed miserably!+ Read the poem aloud and you will hear and ‘feel’ where the rhythm ‘sticks’ and rhymes are forced. That said, it was a wonderful effort. For example who is the ‘He’ at the beginning of the poem? Why would you feel pity? Many English readers will not understand a godown is a warehouse and the verb ‘to preen’ is very rarely used in modern English so it sounds odd and archaic. I arrived… Read more »

Supratik
Member

Never mind Gomathi. You can give some comments a ‘royal’ ignore and move on. Well done here.

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