Monday, 29 May 2017

An image that will always come back...

there was a home;
a faded picture of togetherness,
smell of farming, cows, cats, hens,
the feeling of being a child, well loved;

some walkways get overgrown with weeds…

there was a home, or
rather my grandfather;
he was, stories of a faraway land,
of dams being built, of forests, animals
and funny paranormal tales;
he was, reading newspapers for him
and writing letters to his friends,
his eyes failed him, I became his eyes;
he was, the short breaks we took
while we walked, to soothe his paining leg;
he was, the faint old gramophone songs;
he was, the three-time prayers, daily;
the smell of agarbathis, flowers, a little pot of water
and the chanting, the feeling of being connected;

some walkways get overgrown with weeds…

a home, a person, the earliest strong memories of life,
the base of life;

 the home is gone, he is gone…

you keep seeking that walkway all your life;
the feeling of being welcomed to home and love,
 you know it is a mirage, but you keep seeking
                                                   like a lost child…

Visit IGWRT for Weekend Mini Challenge: people and places and Poets United for Poetry Pantry.


  1. I like the way you have included the smell of farming in the first stanza, Sreeja - smell seems to be the strongest sense of home. You've painted such a clear picture of your grandfather and his stories of a faraway land and faint old gramophone songs. I love the recurrence of the walkways overgrown with weeds that lead finally to the lost child… Full of longing and beautifully touched with sensual imagery.

  2. Such a tender poem.. I am glad you have the memories to travel back to

  3. What a gorgeous but sad reminiscence of who you were. If we looked back to our own childhood we would also find such touching tales of our lives as they used to be. Lets hope our children and grandchildren will also have such recollections.

  4. This is so touching and poignant.
    Last month, I lost my grandmother and therefore, I could totally relate to the nostalgia, pain and longing reflected in the poem.

  5. 'he was, the three-time prayers, daily;
    the smell of agarbathis, flowers, a little pot of water
    and the chanting, the feeling of being connected;' beautiful...

  6. So beautiful that you've carried on his memory in your lovely poem. It is our responsibility to pass on to the next generation the stories and memories that are the fabric of our lives. You've done it so beautifully here.

  7. Luv the walkway note, popping up like the weeds
    Much love...

  8. Some walkways are overgrown... yes.

  9. I can still think that those memories cannot fade, love what you can still can see in a walkway.

  10. Love the message. Great as it was, my walkway has been overgrown with flowers. I couldn't help but think of this; how was grandfather's walkway? (get my meaning)

  11. Beautiful way to be connected with your memories of this man...bkm

  12. I liked your line, "some walkways get overgrown with weeds". Bad?
    But there is some good I am sure. Like, we can still see the path and won't mire down in the mud. Or, stumble through the weeds but enjoy the wildflowers.

  13. Thank you of course...!