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:
Thank goodness we can all dream of stars, even amongst the mud...
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.
How much did I see myself in your poem. Thanks Mr Chakraborty for writing this one. I loved the contrasting two line ending
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!
powerful words "harvest of rust"..you created a powerful image of the beggar who still sings blind but dreams of stars ~
Oh, some exceptional lines here: 'harvest of rust' really stood out for me. Well done.
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.
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.
whoosh, abin, you are beyond everything, really. "blind man's bluff" ?? wowee.
Thanks Marian...my frequency of composition has almost tripled since I joined the 2 communities and have learnt from so many poets, including you.
And though I’ve searched while choking on mud
Proverbial lotus in filth –
english is so much an indian language
Loved the last line. So much hope in one sentence.
Lets keep dreaming of stars! :)
wow this is great
Wow. With all that has been said, that is what I can add!
Dreaming of the stars. Isn't that we all love to do. Thank you for sharing.
"Peeled into puppets of pulverized husk" - wow!
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
harvest of rust, the beggar still sings blind but dreaming of stars...so powerful, moving...hope even when choking on mud...beautiful work
gritty real images - like your style
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