Poetry Blog by Jill Ashforth (India)
Dusk falls and bells toll,
echoing across the ghats.
Holy men chant their prayers,
fruit bats soar and glide
across the moonlit, silky grey sky
and a heady, heavy perfume drifts in the cooling breeze.
Relaxing, remembering the bells,
the drums and pipes of Pushkar's bustling daytime.
Sleep will come soon.
Saturday 19th December 2015 11:10 pm
Our hotel - a hermetically sealed bubble of glass,
concrete and polished floors,
is chilly and anonymous.
But as dawn blossoms quietly
we approach the Jewel of Agra.
A grieving husband remembers
with a monument to love:
the Taj Mahal.
It radiates a powerful aura of peace,
delicate and glowing
in the silver light.
Birds flit across the roof
and I stand,
Saturday 19th December 2015 11:05 pm