Effervescence By Barrie Grenell It’s 1951. I’m eight. The final curtain has fallen on that night’s production of “Pygmalion.” My dad was Col Pickering. He has washed off the greasepaint and said his goodbyes. Driving home over Martha’s Vineyard’s country roads, The balmy summer midnight is too delicious to ignore. At Oak Bluffs public beach …
Poem―India Series. Traffic
I'm driving in the daily traffic jam of North Calcutta. A war must have recently taken place. Cars, buses, rickshaws, jeeps, cycles, trucks, cows, pedestrians, pushcarts, all strain to move at all. My friend seated next to me sings a classical raga of midnight in rural Bengal. A cyclist nearly collides with our car in …
Poem: Glee for Sale
New Delhi, 1973 Mona, Deepak, and Sangita scream and shout As they whirl around in the 4-car merry-go-round ride. They grab hands across the center, squealing excitedly. The itinerant vendor of these gleeful moments stands stone-faced As he pushes the toy cars around with his hand.
Poem. Aging
The thoughts come. They go. They’re gone. What were they? I forget.
QBA 