My Beloved Patriarch

The armchair, rust coloured

like dry, crushed betel leaves

spat across the yard, lay

on the verandah.  Legs spread eagled

on its arms, my father sat

relaxing. Thawing ice cubes

of memory spread a fog

and through misty eyes I see

strong legs cycling me to school,

brawny arms building the blocks

of my future, sprinkling rainbow

colours on my wardrobe; guiding

me cautiously through woods of wisdom.

When years vanished like the grin of

Cheshire cats, and wedding bells chimed,

palm in palm he gave away the bride

in splendor.  Slowly, slowly, infirmity

walked in uninvited. At last,

A senile widower, he left the arm chair

Its green youth forever lost in dead wood.

 

 

This entry was posted in Poetry on by .

About Madhumathy R

Former Professor of English from Kochi, India. Holds doctoral degree in African literature; loves to read and write poems; has published poems in journals and would like to engage in discussions on literary themes.

7 thoughts on “My Beloved Patriarch

    1. Madhumathy R Post author

      Thank you so much for the encouraging words. Love to belong to this exclusive group of poets.

      Reply
    2. Madhumathy R Post author

      Thank you so much for the recognition and encouragement. Love to belong to this exclusive group of poets.
      I consider myself fortunate to be in great company….

      Reply

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *