Thursday, November 3, 2011

Marsh-Men


I’ve gazed into slime-sodden canals of night
With larvae of fevers and pain
And even have chimed with toads that croak
Concert in gutters unclean.

Roots that have rotted are all
Eyes in the bushes can grasp.

And though I’ve searched while choking on mud
Proverbial lotus in filth –
Swollen with bites of insects unknown
Mine is the harvest of rust.

Peeled into puppets of pulverized husk
We totter on the banks of canals of slime
And slither into blind man’s bluff.

Further upstream, the beggar still sings
Blind but dreaming of stars.





20 comments:

Jinksy said...

Thank goodness we can all dream of stars, even amongst the mud...

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Abin, your writing is incredibly beautiful, and has such depth of soul. I especially love the blind beggar dreaming of stars. It is the aspect of being human that rises above circumstance that I most admire. Thanks for your comment on my peace poem - India is one of my great loves - such an ancient and beautiful culture.

Robert said...

How much did I see myself in your poem. Thanks Mr Chakraborty for writing this one. I loved the contrasting two line ending

Judy Roney said...

Wow! What a scene you describe and the words flow off my tongue. Eek and yikes and ewww were the words that sneaked out of my mouth until that last line ...beautiful!

Heaven said...

powerful words "harvest of rust"..you created a powerful image of the beggar who still sings blind but dreams of stars ~

Kerry O'Connor said...

Oh, some exceptional lines here: 'harvest of rust' really stood out for me. Well done.

Robert Lloyd said...

I was a bit hung up on the concept of Larvae of fevers it had images in my head that did not belong there. I enjoyed the poem though and the aspect of hope it portrays.

Abin Chakraborty said...

Robert, what images, if i may, did you have in mind?As far a I am concerned it was simply a reference to various stagnant ponds and canals that we have and the recurrent outbreak of malaria and dengue.

Marian said...

whoosh, abin, you are beyond everything, really. "blind man's bluff" ?? wowee.

Abin Chakraborty said...

Thanks Marian...my frequency of composition has almost tripled since I joined the 2 communities and have learnt from so many poets, including you.

sayan said...

And though I’ve searched while choking on mud
Proverbial lotus in filth –


english is so much an indian language

Laura Maria said...

Loved the last line. So much hope in one sentence.

Serving Hugs on a Platter and Tears in a Teacup said...

Lets keep dreaming of stars! :)

Poetry of the Day said...

wow this is great

Mystic_Mom said...

Wow. With all that has been said, that is what I can add!

Chèvrefeuille said...

Dreaming of the stars. Isn't that we all love to do. Thank you for sharing.

Liliana Negoi said...

"Peeled into puppets of pulverized husk" - wow!

Kay L. Davies said...

So awful — full of awe. And the ending so beautiful — full of beauty, even if unseen.

Kay, Alberta, Canada
An Unfittie’s Guide to Adventurous Travel

Susie Clevenger said...

harvest of rust, the beggar still sings blind but dreaming of stars...so powerful, moving...hope even when choking on mud...beautiful work

Old Ollie said...

gritty real images - like your style