Remastering Old Poem Videos

I'm sorry it's been very quiet here the last month or two, but once again I've managed to become distracted. This time the cause is related to my YouTube channel, and centers on video editions of some of my older poems.

When I first started uploading video versions of my poems to YouTube, I would read the poem and add audio of my reading to a video to create an audio/visual version of what was on the page. However, after a couple of tries at this I decided to opt for the silent format, whereby I would reproduce the text on the screen with the same pictures and music by no reading from me. Now looking back on those old videos, I've decided that this style doesn't really work for poetry, so I'm going through the list and remastering those old videos. Only my silent animal poems won't be remastered.

So far I have remastered versions of "Night of the Dhole", "Rudraprayag", "Kalua", "Ghosts of Sariska", "The Tiger and Me" and "Red Duke" up and running. There are many more still waiting to be finished, but I will have those up and running in due course. In the meantime, there's still a lot to look forward to over the next few weeks, including my analysis of Harry Baker's "Paper People", and an update on my long-gestating Mametz Wood project. All this and more will be on the way soon - he says.

Rudraprayag

after Jim Corbett, The Man-Eating Leopard of Rudraprayag

There is a road in the mountains
between Badrinath and Kerdanath.
Shrines that sheltered pilgrims
for thousands of years.
The road now shelters no one.

Flu-ravaged corpses lined the banks
of two rivers nourished by glaciers.
Coals sat in their mouths
to absorb the stench of death.

The corpses' flesh filled
the stomach of leopard.
The road fell under its shadow.
For eight years it prowled
through the mountains

and found prey in every village.
It leapt through windows,
snatching infants from their cribs
with barely a noise,
just silence remaining.

One of those villages
became its favourite haunt.
A small place on the road,
huddled in between the river
and a forested mountain.

The houses of Rudraprayag are
still. Goats bleat uneasily, while
cows stare dumfounded into the gloom.
A lantern on the headman's porch
cools from the heat of its flame.

A shadow crosses the threshold.
It rips and slashes the locked door,
breaking it down with force of hunger.
Gnarled teeth plunge into the soft throat
so only a whisper escapes.
It tears the man from his bed
into the cover of the night.

(Hi guys, the Tiger Poet here. Hope you enjoyed this poem, there are plenty more on their way. It's been very quiet these last few months, but hope you all had a good summer. See you soon.)