Hark! The rhythm

Hark! The rhythm. The pellet drum rattles. The dance begins. The creation, the annihilation, the fleeing in-betweens, and beyond these appar...

Thursday, November 15, 2012

An encounter


As the early winter rain came down swiftly,
He wrapped the free end of his turban
Around his face, his wet bare chest:
Glistened red with cold.
His strong hands, coarse and dark
With dirt and grime.
They brushed past mine
Carefully manicured and Vaseline-d.
And his body reeked of the sweat he had shed
Earlier in the day.
And the odor of his labor, well, no amount of rain
Could wash it away.
His turban a dirty white, greased and soiled
But worn with pride.
His gaze uninspired, lifeless and vacant,
Tired by the toil and travail.
As he hopped off the slowing bus,
His cracked heels hit the wet dirt.
I saw the cold rain snaking down his spine,
And I shivered despite my woolens.

20 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. Thank you banker chick. Half of the credit would go to Ermiliablog for that.

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  2. Great imagery. Thanks for contributing to Picture it & Write.

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  3. Strong. I can see it. I feel like I'm there.

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    1. Thank you Cathy. It is so encouraging to hear such words.

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  4. Nice! I'm not one for poetry, but I enjoyed this piece, and that last line I absolutely love! So perfect!

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    1. Thank you so much Shelton. Your words are so heartening to read. I am glad you liked this little piece.

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  5. Nice juxtaposition and great final line.

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    1. Thank you Azara. I appreciate your visit and kind words.

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  6. Nicely done! I could see him, smell his scent, feel the rain... Yep, nicely done!

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    1. Thank you Yvonne. It is one of the greatest relief to see the character coming to life.

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  7. I'll echo the imagery comments.

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    1. Thank you Anne. It is really good to have you visiting here.

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  8. You play so much with temperature in this, and so subtly. Love that.

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    1. Thank you Cameron. Your appreciation and encouragement is such a reward.

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Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.