Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Oct 2016 Prathipa Nair
L B
Behind the barn in late afternoon
Uncle Ray lifts my brother
to the seat of a harrower
abandoned now
and rusted to this field of family
tilted and monumental
plunging its tines into memory
of broken earth
behind this life of the workhorses they were
My father and my Uncle Ray—talking
Scattered conversation
in hushed tones

...as skyscraping thunderheads
slashed through their heights
by arrows of fire
light the pumpkins
between hay bundles
of time golden
One of my early memories.  I was three.  Between my first and second year,  memory begins for me-- mostly impressions and strong symbols that seem to float without time.  
My grandparents were gone, but my Uncle Ray still worked their small farm in Hatfield, Massachusetts, and we would drive up from the city on Sunday afternoons.  The house itself, was one of the oldest in New England, with the barn attached by a distinctive enclosure, to allow easy access to the animals in heavy snow, like the house described in Ethan Frome.
 Oct 2016 Prathipa Nair
Ramin Ara
Bud
The bud that blooms
In a  meadow
In spring
Tells many stories
About Snow
And rain
 Oct 2016 Prathipa Nair
curlygirl
the hardest
part of
letting someone
you love
go is
making yourself
stay away
 Oct 2016 Prathipa Nair
r
I want her to rise up again
like when she lifted her blue
skirt looking at how brown
I am taking off my shirt
and there are somethings
you learn if you were born
on a farm where I watched
her shadow in the middle
of the night overlooking mine
in the dark where we hid
from the light listening
to the wind, that sad poet
of the unknown pulling back
the dead eyes of those singing
sweet songs in the long night.
Autumn is here
Today is the day
Nothing to fear
Beauty on display

Red is the leaves
Their passion showing
Allowing me to believe
There is reason for growing

Yellow as they fall
Bright and on fire
Giving hope to all
Enabling us to aspire

The world is amazing
So we should be too
Our souls glowing
Together we continue
 Oct 2016 Prathipa Nair
kaycog
oh how I seem to fall into patterns
I don't care for history
but I constantly repeat my mistakes
same meaning
different people
different words
same habit
my sick and twisted nature
I'm so good at hiding myself
and ripping others open
they don't know that I know
that its intentional
I'm aware
I know
and it hasn't changed
Next page