Saturday, November 3, 2007

Untitled

The outlook is bleak …and the sky grey.

My mind as jaded as my Life’s fray.

My boarded tenement has sprung a leak.

Respite from the onslaught of rain I seek.

But there is no where to go , not a corner dry

My tired heart does not even let out a resigned sigh.

Today it is rain, yesterday it was hunger.

My lowly birth has made me devoid of anger.

Since I am born to it , my hunger I do bear

Of just gnawing pain , why should I care?

Come rain come sun, whatever the season

Poverty has never ever committed treason.

To my mother I have been as good a son I could.

To my best ability, by my children I stood.

My wife , now she used to be good to me

Till one day I turned up after a drunken spree.

I think of my son, now soon to be eight .

Of my older daughter and her teenage gait.

But my daughter of ten is the apple of my eye.

Can make me smile even when I want to cry.

On this dull afternoon, through my stupor I can see

Poverty, hunger and my wife all three mocking me .

As light at the end , my death I do not see

Just means to end it all , and set us all so free .

They washed my stomach and tried to drain

The insecticide but what of all this pain ?

Breathing so feebly under an oxygen mask

I lay subconsciously assessing Life’s daunting task.

Mother brother sisters children all now shed a tear

Cries copiously , my daughter , favorite and dear.

The quagmire of Poverty will suck them in, sure and fast.

Soon a mere indistinct memory , I’ll fade into the past.

Follow the fly ridden open drain down the road

Till you come up to a dank and dilapidated abode.

Where despite the squalor they are toasting a new Life

One more to share and bear the cross of never ending strife.

With all my soul I had wished and wished

This Life of penury and desolation finished.

But oh this never ending soul searing pain

For O Heartless God , I have been born again.

9 comments:

Mayur said...

The words are evocative, crisp, and swift in their impact as Shubha weaves impressions and
insights through the poem.
Her occasional look at the present and future are sharp and haunting.

Ravin said...

Its scary, really walks you through this poor man's ordeal... stuff to give you nightmares!

Good work... keep it up!

Mister KB said...

this is fabulous, and awesome- uncanny in content, and stark! Liked this immensely!

shubd said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
shubd said...

This unfortunately is the true story of man whose led a life of abject Poverty, with the only success that he could lay claim to ,was his attempt at suicide.

Rambler said...

the poem lives the emotion very closely.very well done

Pam said...

The mocking by poverty, hunger, and the wife. . .almost more than a man can bear. Nice write.

Tammy said...

What a well told story of a life not lived and full of pain.

Indrani said...

Nicely written Shubha. Poverty and on top of that drinking, the lives are pathetic. They need help, not monetary but emotional support.