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Poem

Prabhat

Broom 2

My grandpa had a few amazing brooms

There was a broom of an eye
If he saw
even a handful of grains of pulse
scattered somewhere
he’d heap it up with the broom of an eye
and carry it over to the barn
There was a broom of stone
with which he would scrub
the dust and sand that clung to the bodies of bullocks
Then he would wipe them, dry them
with a broom of cloth
The bullocks didn\'t have their own mother
so grandpa was a second mother to them in this world

Now the bullocks are no more
Neither is grandfather
Nor are any grains of pulse to be found
scattered around the house

Even the people who lived in this house have left
someone for Jaipur, another for Gujarat

Now pigs loiter
and dogs squat here
Even now the passersby find a retreat here
from the scorching afternoon heat

BROOM 2

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Broom 2

My grandpa had a few amazing brooms

There was a broom of an eye
If he saw
even a handful of grains of pulse
scattered somewhere
he’d heap it up with the broom of an eye
and carry it over to the barn
There was a broom of stone
with which he would scrub
the dust and sand that clung to the bodies of bullocks
Then he would wipe them, dry them
with a broom of cloth
The bullocks didn\'t have their own mother
so grandpa was a second mother to them in this world

Now the bullocks are no more
Neither is grandfather
Nor are any grains of pulse to be found
scattered around the house

Even the people who lived in this house have left
someone for Jaipur, another for Gujarat

Now pigs loiter
and dogs squat here
Even now the passersby find a retreat here
from the scorching afternoon heat

Broom 2

My grandpa had a few amazing brooms

There was a broom of an eye
If he saw
even a handful of grains of pulse
scattered somewhere
he’d heap it up with the broom of an eye
and carry it over to the barn
There was a broom of stone
with which he would scrub
the dust and sand that clung to the bodies of bullocks
Then he would wipe them, dry them
with a broom of cloth
The bullocks didn\'t have their own mother
so grandpa was a second mother to them in this world

Now the bullocks are no more
Neither is grandfather
Nor are any grains of pulse to be found
scattered around the house

Even the people who lived in this house have left
someone for Jaipur, another for Gujarat

Now pigs loiter
and dogs squat here
Even now the passersby find a retreat here
from the scorching afternoon heat
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère