In My Father’s Room

January 21, 2013 at 12:31 pm (Dominic Alapat, Poetry)


the fan is like flowing water

with the curtains drawn

waves and waves of wind

wash over me on the chair

in his bed where I was lying down

after lunch

I drifted into sleep

like the furniture

only the curtains moved gently

shaking slivers of sun onto the floor.


– Dominic Alapat


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I Walked

January 20, 2013 at 6:32 pm (Dominic Alapat, Poetry)


and walked in

the noonday sun

till my clothes

turned into a river

I swam through

the heavy traffic

asking for directions

no one knew the place

I wanted to go

I walked back and reached

the railway station

with crowds swarming

all around the bus depot

the streets the restaurants

the tea-stalls

the street-food sellers’ carts

rickshaws puttered everywhere

and someone pointed out

the building I wanted to go to

well I had passed this place

but never thought this building

could be here

it was off the street

in a cluster of several others

I was looking for a seven-storey building

and not spotting one on both sides

of the road

had walked on and on

anyway I had finally found

my destination

and entering its cool foyer

for a moment I thought

how nice it would be

if I could forget myself

forget my purpose here

if the lift with its sliding iron doors

forgetting its role too

could take me straight to the sky

where large white clouds were blowing

unthinking in every direction

unmindful of anything

that happened here.


– Dominic Alapat

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