Varanasi Haiku

Sacred Ganga,
Welcome to our city.
What gifts you’ll take.

 

Narrow warren,
lanes lined with bright-hued goods,
bangle blind and lost.

 

Cattle herd
roams the parched mudflat,
kicking up dust.

 

A golden bridge
visits each morning, and
exits silently.

 

Wood stackers
endlessly working
the burning ghats.

POEM: Orange Hour

A golden streak of light,

glowing off the Ganga

like the opening scene

of a fury-destined manga.


The silent, gliding boats

give way to bells and horns

as sadhus leave the ghats

with the fading of the morn.


Gone the floating lamps and flowers,

so ends that magic orange hour.

DAILY PHOTO: Varanasi Ghats in the Warm Morning Light

Chet Singh Ghat

 

Prabhu Ghat

 

Jain Ghat; Taken in Varanasi (Benares) in October of 2015