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Village Grand Ma

Rating: 3.8
Sitting in her torn draped old cotton sari,
In front of her thatched hut tired and weary;
Watching trees accompanying from her vivid memories,
She often narrated stories of ghosts from those haunted trees,
With birds ghosts flew out by rationale to set them free,
That is the Grand Ma symbol of village verity;

She had mastered the goods of the jungle roots,
Used those to heal the fractured wounds;
She knew the reason of the depressed moods,
Charming them with her stories of gals and goons;
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Walterrean Salley 17 September 2014
So lovely a poem this is. Neighborhood mothers are very significant and gifted in their own rights. Love them. And love your poem. Thanks..
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Coreena Dejesus 05 March 2008
Vidyadhar this is a great read and your narration makes it fantastic! ! !
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Nema Shama 04 March 2008
A tribute the wisdom of village elders...good narration
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Michael Shepherd 04 March 2008
I love this, and the shaping of it, Vidya-darshan!
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Sreelekha Premjit 04 March 2008
The poem evokes very vivid images of the grand old lady of the house and in the process of the whole village. Much of the traditional wisdom of our country owes its existence to these wise old women.
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Raveendran . 02 March 2008
Evoking lifelike images - nice reading
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Rajaram Ramachandran 01 March 2008
When I read this, I get a flash back of my departed grandmother, who was more or less like the Village Grand Ma of the poem.
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rajagopal haran 29 February 2008
somebody remembering an old village woman is heartening...well made..nobody is less..nobody is great...nice poem Vidya
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