praying nets

Posted on by areadingwriter

waka

mix mud and heavy raindrops,
a murky puddle void of
the skill to mirror even
the slightest silhouette,

pour some more, pour some
more, until it overpours into
a snake-shaped waterway
flowing gently in May,
in a rugged rush on
monsoon days,

either way, on it, lays
the floating wood and
men with paddle arms
away from their thatched
huts they sail, and sail,
and sail, before even the
first breaking of  day,

throwing their nets with
their lean, chocolate arms,
add a whisper, begging
the god of fishes for
a good harvest,

to let this day fill
the chipped, cold plates
waiting back home.

—

08.12.2020
©2020 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash
Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
—
For dVerse Come sail
The prompt today made me remember the days in my childhood town where the river is within arms reach, where my grandpa was a fisherman among the many men of our town.

Published by areadingwriter

I read because I write. | I write because I read.

36 thoughts on “praying nets”

  2. Such vivid and descriptive imagery while we sail with you to your past. This is indeed evocative, and it is especially warm in that memory of fishing. That must have been fun and exhausting!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Your description of the river is so vivid, and then that final stanza brings home the realities of needing to fish to feed your family – up so early to face hard work, and uncertainty. I love this poem so much.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. “pour some more, pour some
    more, until it overpours into
    a snake-shaped waterway
    flowing gently in May,
    in a rugged rush on
    monsoon days” I am amazed!! You’ve used the prompt and let us have a peek into your early life. Thanks for sharing this.

    Liked by 1 person

  10. this is a sensational poem – you write about what you know and convey it so lyrically
    “pour some more, pour some
    more, until it overpours into
    a snake-shaped waterway
    flowing gently in May,”

    but beneath it all there is a stark reality
    “begging
    the god of fishes for
    a good harvest,

    to let this day fill
    the chipped, cold plates
    waiting back home.”

    Liked by 1 person

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