The little girl in floral bathing wear
stretched out her arms and laughed and tried
to influence the heedless tide
that tugged at her delicate ankles and toes
The English boys played soccer on the sand
Grandma gazed from a canvas chair
Two men, of Indian origin
stood waist-deep in the bobbing waves,
arms extended, as if to dispense
grains of rice upon the surf
the droplets in their bushy beards
flecked by mirrors of distant worlds.
Perhaps they harbour precious shreds
of ancient Sutras in their paunches
in the circling of hands above the water
unnoticed by the sporting hordes,
by the little girl scooping up shells
eager to invite her classmates' smiles
when she presents them, scrubbed and shined
in a pink box at her American school.
Excellent poem, Frank I love your different styles of poems. Great imagery, almost like a painting you've creating by writing.
This has a wonderful feel to it Frank. It flows effortlessly I wondered about the structure of stanzas i and two, I thought you were introducing a rhyming scheme. it may have been goodbut this piece is a very nostalgic and lovely work.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is absolutely beautiful, I love the images in this piece, so very wonderful. One of my favs of yours. HG: -) xx