DAY 9 – Passing Things

April 9, 2019

The prompt given by the official NaPoWriMo site: A poem about ‘things’.

I don’t like short poems :/ (But I swear, this read would be worth it?)




Grey with age the warden’s kin,

furrows in his skin.

The warden passed like wilted flowers

his son now guards his towers.


Leaning on the balustrade,

he catches tides and trade.

From his watchtower he calls

when hastening footsteps fall.


“Ye wanderer from distant land,

what news do you command?

My ears are keen but knees are weak

so of passing things speak.


Of tourneys’ thrill and pompous fests,

unheard I shall not rest.

Of wars and quests and realms’ fate,

I beg you to narrate.”


“Old man I envy you your rest

for on the king’s behest,

to pacify the princess’ son

who fled from home, I run.”


Then left the man upon his steed

when one with sacks of greed-

a merchant from queer Irthelost,

by the tower paused.


“Stay, oh wealthy ambling man

what brings you to this land?”

“The minister’s lost his cat, it’s told

on them who find rains gold.”


‘Off, off on your way you be,

a hawker there I see,

what hangs from your dainty cart,

what treasures have you brought?”


“Nothing but trifling trinkets here –

rusted cups that bear,

oxen’s eyes and porcupine meat

that men in Mauland eat.”


“So now I know that dreadful stench

that this sweet air drench,

it’s from your filthy bag, I fear

that holds all such things queer.”


“Next arrive the dancing troupes

with golden rings and loops.”

“What gamble do you stride towards?

to this man spare few words.”


“Oh, old man hanging on the sill

we are from distant Ravil.

The minstrel’s pigs turn two-year-olds

for that a feast he holds.


To ladies there from far off towns

and lords with silver crowns;

to all the rich bounties they hold,

our dance we shall unfold.”


“Dance, dance, to your merry delight,

but hasten ‘fore the night,

when bandits dressed in rainbow gowns

I’ve heard, come prowl the towns.”


And thus, to dusk, the noon dwindled

the warden’s kin fiddled,

waiting for one more passer-by

with trifling tales to sigh.


But none that day rode once more there,

none with a lurid affair.

So the rest of the night he passed alone,

dreaming of things unknown.


At last the overhead cotton clouds

Silent above him crowd.

With delight, to them he turned his stare –

“what tattle can you share?”


When not a word they spoke to him,

he shrugged, humming a hymn.

All by himself, there he lied

watching the clouds and sighed-


“All men are busy in errands loved

that fleet like passing cloud.

When all the world in movements sway,

it’s only us that lay.”



I am inviting you all to join me in this venture. Use the prompt given above to craft your own verses.
And oh, be sure to tag me.




© 2019 Sahana Narendran Protection Status

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