I stood at the shore,
with the waves washing my feet,
the crimson torch lighting the horizon,
the gulls populating my surroundings.
I stared at the beach, watching
the textile textured sand turn to a strainer,
with tiny crabs coming out,
to bask in the morning sun.
Out of the empty blue,
the lower half to be precise,
I noticed tiny black dots appearing,
slowly but steadily growing in size.
As the sun climbed over my head, i saw
the dots evolved into boats,
fishermen in catamarans,
returning with their booty.
They were dark skinned and thin,
smelt of dead fish,
but were full of life,
full of gay.
Unloading their harvest onto the land,
they were all smiles seeing quintals of dead fish,
without realizing the pain
of the victim's kith and kin.
The sun by now,
began to slide down,
to take a dip in the sea-
its private theme park.
The Fishermen vanished,
so did the gulls and the crabs.
Yet, I stood there,
staring at the sea.
Dawn to Dusk,
So much has moved on the earth,
not to exclude the earth,
but for me.
As i finally made my way out of the beach,
I left my foot prints behind,
knowing very well that,
Its not going to last even for an hour.
I had to,
Just like you,
reading this piece of pathetic poetry.
I can see your forehead wrinkle,
for I know you might be wondering what this story is all about,
for that matter even I don’t know ,
wrote it for the sake of writing it.
I know you would wish to kill me,
for wasting your time, testing your patience,
Don’t worry, you will never find me,
never will you get a chance even.
and asked me about this poem(?)
I would immediately shout
Its not me! Its not me!
M.Vijay
09 September 2006
3:10 am
2 comments:
When you write a poem for the first time, that too in free verse and this is what you come up with, i guess you should not have been studying management dude. By hurling your poetic self into the clanky corporate world you dont know what injustice you do to the society. My heart wrenches on seeing what a jewel the field of literature has lost. Only if Shakespeare was not called the Bard of Avon, i would have given the same distinction to you my friend. Nevertheless, i pronounce you the Bard of Heaven for your words flow like a stream through the meanders of thought and the on the seabed of imagination. With this piece you have reached the pinnacle of Creativity. You have done your friends, associates, family, Society, country and the humanity proud by penning down this scripture. Hail, hail, hail!!!
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