It’s a rickety, rollicking ride I’m on
Reading Uncle’s “Our Mutual Friend”
On the tide of the Thames as it rolls
Along, dragging me in its mysterious wake
With Veneerings and Rimtys and inspectors
That lurk behind the John Harmons
Who could be the Srivatis and Vikrams
And Chandras hawking rumors by the Ganges
In the myriad scenario of humanity’s flow
Under the pen of a master storyteller caught
In the blood-spun net of familiar lives
Spent on the banks of labyrinthian rivers
That wend to shores around the world
And stay to balance on my fingertips.
Your poems on the master story tellers story are like the master story teller himself 🙂 Great work.
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I’m always overwhelmed by your kind comments, Rose, thank you! And do you know, rediscovering Dickens through this novel is really like visiting an old friend and realizing you’ve stayed away too long. Fun catching up though 🙂
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yeah … think I am overdue on a visit to those old classics … might be much more fun reading them now !!
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Sometimes I think that classics are wasted on school kids. They take on so many more lovely hues when you’ve lived and matured even a little, as if their maturity is affected by yours.
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So true. We are too young to appreciate them .. and they become just another textbook to get through.
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