Friday beggars

Around the time of Friday prayers, beggars flock the streets of Dhaka, demanding a share of the goodwill of the wealthy mosque goers.

.

Friday beggars

 

Red gaping mouths;

the beggars are out –

paan-spitting, nail splitting,

scratching hard tinted glass.

 

Options are simple – using pathos or fear

keep people’s attention long enough so they hear –

long enough so they see; so they must cast a glance

on lives torn to shreds by choices or chance.

 

Aggressively pleading,

demanding,

despair.

Discomfort,

cold shivers,

in the dirty, hot air

 

 

 

Arranged

At the National Art Museum in Copenhagen I was deeply touched by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo’s painting of ‘Latinus offering his daughter Lavinia to Aeneas in matrimony’. The painting, from 1753, of a proud, independent woman facing her fate. How far we have come and how far we have still to go.  

.

Arranged

.

Proud neck turned away.

Your sire’s self-satisfied smile

contradicts the crease on his brow.

Your eyes half closed consider shrinking options.

On bended knee the warrior pleads,

lions upon his shoulders.

Behind you, solid pillars.

Standing proud,

isolated as they crowd.

They have all power,

but still desire your graceful surrender.

Your proud neck turned away,

while unseen,

cold shackles tighten.

.

.

Daffodil

Enjoying the chilly beauty of Nordic spring, not least the wakening flowers.

.

Daffodil

.

Resurrected gold in dark, dormant earth,

lifting cheerful heads to tattered boughs,

dancing joyfully in springtime’s chilling breeze,  

shines her sunshine hopes on pale grey days.   

.

.

Easter break

Easter break; a first chance to review the year.

 

Easter break

 

April half done,

year is gathering pace.

 

First quarter gone

she’s hurrying on,

quietly outstripping the pack.

 

Use Easter break

to retie laces,

strap back hair,

  

and pursue her down steepening slopes.

.

.

The life we have

A little positive motivation to end one week and start another.

.

The life we have

.

To love the life we have, that is the art of living

To share what life has taught, that is the art of giving

.

To look with tender eyes upon the years now past

To live each age we reach, to play the part we’re cast

.

To live our life intensely and look time in the eye

And not to fear its passing or wring our hands and cry

.

To learn the art of life is more than just surviving

To learn to love our life, that is the art of thriving

.

.

.

Mongoose

There is not much wildlife in Dhaka, but fast moving mongooses often give me a start on my early morning jog around the lakes.

Mongoose

Heartbeats

as dark fur streaks

across your path,

 tail low and fast.

 An exclamation mark,

searching

for a situation.

.

.

.