Changes Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Changes



Oh changes...oh changes...oh changes

To preserve there were pots in the ground
Sun-ripened-fresh-fruit was hand-plucked
Food was made for each day, day or night
And making meant work hard, no complain
The ice was brought in, a technic in summer
Boy was boy for outside; a woman was woman.

Oh changes...oh changes...oh changes

No one talked of paper (in toilet)
Plastic surgeries from the nose
To breasts and downwards, labial
Now being a part of the make-up
To become commodity; Barbie-like
Never came to one’s mind
Though Barbie as they did
Can go around no nickers, no bras

Oh changes...oh changes...oh changes

Thursday, April 3, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: social
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