One Man’s Cliché



ONE MAN’S CLICHÉ …




There was a straw basket on mother’s head
When we locked the one-hinged gate.
A chattering twin dangled off each arm 
And the baby kept her back straight.
I came last, holding the water instead 
Of old Bhaloo who kept me warm.


The twins are now echoes in rustling trees
And mother’s back stoops unhindered;
But I still have to hold this bottle so
To stop this top – it was splintered 
When the laughing men knocked me to my knees –
From letting out our last swallow.


I must save it from the sand. On we go
Like ill-skipped stones, lurching and slow,
That take forever, twist, turn and shiver;
And never do cross the r

About the contributor

Hibah Shabkhez is a writer of the half-yo literary tradition, an erratic language-learning enthusiast, a teacher of French as a foreign language and a happily eccentric blogger from Lahore, Pakistan. Her work has previously appeared in The Mojave Heart Review, Third Wednesday, Brine, Petrichor, Remembered Arts, Rigorous and a number of other literary magazines. Studying life, languages and literature from a comparative perspective across linguistic and cultural boundaries holds a particular fascination for her.

Related Articles

Emma Lee Reviews ‘Highway 20’ by Michael J Moore

‘Highway 20’ Michael J Moore Hellbound Books Publishing $14.99...

Poetry from Luke Kennard

Award-winning poet, Luke Kennard shares seven poems from his upcoming collection 'Notes on The Sonnets', written in response to Shakespeare's sonnets and to be published in April 2021 by Penned in the Margins.

The Last Laugh by Kieran Devaney

Writer and journalist, Kieran Devaney remembers his friend, the sculptor Eamonn O'Doherty, and his unerring ability always to have the last laugh.

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here

More Like This

Three poems by Fiona Pitt-kethley

Pitt-kethley’s intimate portrayals of spanish street scenes speak to larger socio-political issues within contemporary society.

Scottish poet – Nicola Geddes

In Praise of Grey Far from black and white now the season of grey in all its rainbow light sea grey, rain grey wet granite day grey pewter, silver and...

Ruby Red Never Forget- Lyn Ann Byrne

“I remember you,” the stranger sang, back handling the door

2 Poems by Gerry Stewart

ON SEEING SORLEY MACLEAN AT GLASGOW UNIVERSITY His words tread the polished wood, stroke the soft Gaelic of my printed page. Love...

The Write Life – An invitation

“There are, first of all, two kinds of authors: those who write for the subject’s sake, and those who write for...
YOU ARE VIEWING AS A VISITOR. PLEASE .LOGIN. OR .REGISTER. FOR THE BEST BROWSING EXPERIENCE
Close