to cajole that sourpuss,
that scroungy being with his grey strandy beard
away from his sacred tree?
What a recluse he is, and oh what a temper he has
when disturbed, letting pretend-holy
anger strike me like lightning
– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2009)
Written from someone else’s point of view around cajole, recluse and temper from 3WW. It’s all Indian today, after a Holi festival last night with Bharatanatyam dances and Bollywood film karaoke, plus immersing myself into a few poems by Rabindranath Tagore this morning. No wonder then that this is by some poor woman whose husband has got it into his brain that he needs to sit under a big old tree, grow his beard and become enlightened.