NaPoWriMo 11 : Et tu Brute?

00199 (7)
Gulls in flight over Marmara Sea, Turkey                Photo credit: ReenaPrasad


In an afternoon that wore the garb of dawn

clouds sat upon their gold
and a lone gull upon the hull
As a gull-nado swept the skies,
the boat started to rock

The ones who came with me could not stay long
The ones I found were soon lost
The ones who agreed to row
were nowhere to be seen
I became the boat
and they all-
the sea

Into the storm I went
whirled around by the waters
that had floated me before

The season changed, the migrants left
The lone gull moulted
revealing a black head
Et tu Brute?
well then, let me drown

©Reena Prasad

NaPoWriMo 11 The Traitor

NaPoWriMo 11

The Traitor

Call me a scarecrow by all means
suits me to a T, a T is what I appear to be
below the pothead
stuck to my cross

In a pale green field of lemony sunshine
I wake to a dew-drunk magpie’s raspy chatter
her splendidly long tail tickling my chest

By midmorning the crows arrive
wrestling noisily for a bit of perching space
My limbs grow slender and their nests
with each passing day

A sparrow nests safe
in my mildewed breast pocket
its tiny blue egg I hold precious
– a fleeting sense of immortality

The sun clambers onto its hottest throne
and a hot breeze rips through the nodding hay
Jungle babblers descend in hordes
their loud queries keeping my loneliness away

It is the evenings I like best
When the freshly watered corn sways
in the westerly breeze
and the earth nods off, its elbows resting on a
slipping orange ball

A visitor from the dell arrives
drumming upon my hollow head
her nimble dance of delight
Her soft coo in the moonlight
thrills my rag-ensconced heart
She sings me to sleep
my blackbird of the night

A flapping fiend to trespassing eyes
You cursed me with loneliness
but with love a scarecrow might change