I'll make this world worth living for a child
This my pledge to the babe.
- Sukanto Bhattacharya (translation mine)
Soot-lined faces that slither into slime
Are strewn over streets full of moss.
Jasmines and lilies are blackened in mud,
In these, our slush-loving lanes.
So how should one strive,
With broom full of words
To sweep up these piles that'll peak?
Dragged by the nettles in quicksand, we clutch
Straws that'll crumble and vanish in a trice.
Splattered into fragments of unbecoming mess
We struggle with an illusion of roots beyond route
That dashes our hopes for shores within reach
And leaden our eyes that had seen.
Left without GPS of destiny untold
We stutter and watch our farces unfold.
17 comments:
The words fantastically pushed themselves along...that is a credit to word choice and line structure.
Very vivid and powerful words! I'm not sure which poem you posted to the Pantry this week because the link you posted doesn't exist according to Blogger. Not sure if it's a problem on my end or yours.
Vivid images of despair and mess in mud stained streets ~ But I am hopeful though of the fragmented world ~
Have a good week Abin ~
Powerful write. Thank you for sharing.
"How should one strive with broom full of words to sweep up these piles"? Awesome. Strong closing line as we "watch our farces unfold." Wowzers!
So how should one strive,
With broom full of words
To sweep up these piles that'll peak?
Now that's the definition of the poet's task, if ever I've read it.
Dig this piece.
Gritty and modern
I think we'd all still find our way. We did before GPS were invented, and, hopefully we still will without them too. Lovely imagery all through this. As with your other readers, I too loved the sweeping words up with a broom...lovely!
You so took me by surprise, Abin. I assumed that your piece would be all moons and Junes and ferris wheels. Not so! With eloquence and grit you show us what work is to be done, you carry us through those streets, we feel the mud, the grime. Your mission, a success.
Not alone here on the broom full of words lines...magic stuff. A seriousness and underlying frustration here that make the poem a precipice of message and call to understanding...I think. I could be way off. Strong writing, strong words.
So how should one strive,
With broom full of words
To sweep up these piles that'll peak?
I loved that verse because it tied all of your imagery together nicely in the middle. You have a controlled melancholy, which is to say you know how to restrain and when to unleashed with your broom. Well done
watch our farces unfold.
love that ending!
This piece romanticizes sadness and depression...strangely beautiful!A vivid and a very strong poem.
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