Magpie Tales

new york restaurant 1922 edward hopper

new york restaurant 1922 edward hopper

in a charming old bistrot
in the time it took to taste my tea
whirl the leaves
a newspaper in front of me
and find out
Ghandi’s son raped his eight
year old girl

its fashionable to not talk about such things
at a restaurant with such fine trimmings
such richness of discussion
coy eye blinks, a-flutter above tilted cup
but I saw his letter to his son
where he talked about what horror had been done
and the pain of an eight year old daughter

so in the time it took
to put down my tea
my faith in the world dissolved around me
and my sympathy for various vagrancies
became undone

I became a murderer in my heart
and passed you the milk
I ordered you a cupcake
and pondered on fate
for if Ghandi’s son can commit such a murder
of faith
then anyone can do asunder to another
and most likely will


for magpie tales

Categories: Verse | Tags: | 21 Comments

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21 thoughts on “Magpie Tales

  1. I like the factual incorporation here. Quite cleverly served!

  2. Wow!! This blew me away. I lose faith in humanity on a daily basis, but every once in a while it’s restored.

  3. Well, this twisted back and bit the hand! Thank you for the honest pessimism that such a horror story should induce in us.

    • Your words are so powerful. Thank you for saying that, and yes, it sums it up exactly.

    • Oh a short story – lovely – will read it in 2 hrs, won’t do a quick reading, just wanted to let you know.

    • Sorry for the late reply, and will swing by – I looked at what you said closely. Such a stunning comment. At first was numbed at such good words. Thanks very much. Appreciated!

      • There’s no rush! This is the blogiverse, after all, and we can make our own time and our own rules.

  4. Tess Kincaid

    I like the skillful way you played up the event in the newspaper…clever write…

  5. I’m not really shocked at this revelation, Hamish dear. Though i was surprised or taken aback! In my world here, it’s the children of the famous, rich and privileged and yes even pastors who commit the unthinkable.

  6. CC Champagne

    This one took off in a very unexpected direction for me… How do I begin to express how brilliantly you’ve handled this prompt and how emotionally perturbed you’ve left me as your reader at the end. Bravo!

    • Sorry for the late reply, and will swing by – I looked at what you said closely. To be honest your words numbed me for a while. It was such a gracious, but powerful comment. Thank you very much. Appreciated!

  7. Suzanne

    Gosh – what an unsettling poem. Very disturbing indeed.

    • Yes, I thought I’d hit hard. Sometimes the blogging world is a little too rosy. I knew many would shy away from it which confirms my worries. Thanks for your words Suzanne.

      • Suzanne

        Your poem interested me so much I did a little research into Ghandi’s sons. ( Apparently his sons resented their upbringing and reacted against him. The oldest son sounds like the most troubled – perhaps he was the one you write of.
        It would seem Ghandi was a great political activist but a lousy parent.
        I agree with you that the blogging community can get altogether too flowery.

        • Thanks very much, that was interesting – specifically not allowing them formal education. I think the eldest was the one. Ghandi’s letter to him was what I saw. Was shocking, of course, and sometimes I get puzzled why so much is hidden behind flowers etc on bogs – maybe that’s one of the ways in which the rawness and honesty of your writing stands out, though I do think there is much more to your writing than that.

          • Suzanne

            Raw and honest – that’s me. Been through too much to hide behind the flowers for very long :)

  8. charleenm

    You capture such a terrible truth in this poem- a truth that makes you question without stop.

  9. Oh the loss of faith of humanity.. not many day we can stay happy.. love that contrast with the tea..

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