On A Lonely Station Chair Poem by Rites Ghosh

on this sad old chair i sit waiting
for that uncertain train:
yellow land far off wavering-
in the motionless rail
life has no event to occur

so many dumped minutes like
sticking miseries of wretched one
of earth hanging up full around me,
or like a certain stubborn street dog
it wags tail, looks upon my stupid face
and not goes any how-

when i have nothing with me,
no occupation indeed,
the dog may sneak into lines
of my verse, or the poor bereft may
move lonely like the noonday wind
to sympathise some dear eyes-
no, nothing of that sort

only i fold my legs and unfold,
unfold, twist arms, fold,
yawn or squirm and again
iron out all creases of atrophied hours-
no train comes, not the least of it,
it gives me nothing to wake up,
not even a chance to bury me
underneath almost smashed-

sitting on the chair, i submit
a weightless blank paper, here-
wave it out, upon air unseen, bodyless;
knowing hardly ever if i fail-

but i understand, the judge must have
his decree upon me-