Waiting is not for summer
nor winter or
snatches of hot and cold showers.
Hands of the clock
point to the meeting of
the skyscraper and the dull sky,
as skulls smirk at my anxiety;
with lidless eyes
I dream of a future of empty dustbins.
Waiting for rotten tubers
and the last monsoon, a thought
drives me like a frenzied pendulum
forcing grooves into a soft outside
mocking its very shelter.
With a vision through shattered glass
I profess sanity,
a life for you and me
raging through
the torrents of the sewer: your choice.
I experience bliss in rewards.
Rewards from frantic search in
municipal dustbins: a page of poetry,
and a morsel of food, a baby
in rage sucking its thumb;
gurgling with twittering birds near five-star hotels.
My skeleton hangs on the racks
of the boutique. You buy pleasure
with money and crush
my dead bones for better yield
waiting for another New Year.
Photo Credit
The Hand – Wikimedia Creative Commons
Guest Author Bio
Dr Shruti Das
Dr Shruti Das is Associate professor English in the P.G. Department of English, Berhampur University in Odisha, India. She is a creative writer with poetry published Nationally and Internationally and also a literary critic, writing bilingually in English and her native tongue Odia. She has participated in many National and International Seminars on English language literature and Communication skills in India and abroad. As well, she has published a collection of poems named “A Daughter Speaks” and has been published in Anthologies like “Inspired Heart 2″ and “Scaling Heights”. She is sensitive to social issues, loves to travel and to dream. She loves animals.
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I cannot thank you enough , dear editor, for publishing my poem. It gave me the impetus I had been needing for a long time and I sent my collection of poems to a publisher.
It is going to be published very shortly. I have mentioned you in gratitudes.
Hi Shruti,
That’s great news! Thank you for sharing this with us. We wish you all the very best!
Cheers,
Gil
Thank you Gil. 🙂
The poem is predominantly Eliotian in its use of imagery of futility highlighting frustration, both personal and social:
dull sky
shattered glass
empty dustbins
smirking skulls
dead bones
hanging skeleton
baby in rage sucking its thumb
The poem powerfully records a terrible feeling of hollowness, both emotional and spiritual.
I hope there is plenty of sunshine in the next poem by the poetess of great promise!
this is wonderful. look forward to reading more
Thank you