The Saddhu - Poem by Sheena Blackhall
Today I lunched with a Saddhu;
The tangled cow dung knotted in his hair
Smelt dreadfully. The hard skin of his feet,
Like hooves, left little scuffmarks on the floor.
He was invisible to everyone but me;
When the postman arrived with the mail,
The Saddhu was picking dustballs from his navel
The telephone frightened the Holy Man to fits —
Worse than rutting elephants, he said.
The screens reminded him of jungle leaves,
Computer leads resembled bullocks' entrails
Tomorrow, I'm having Krishnamurtri in for lunch;
Possibly, he'll be joined by the Dalai Lama.
We're share each others thoughts, a global cake
And not a single crumb of time we'll waste!
Comments about The Saddhu by Sheena Blackhall
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.