Owl-Moon Night & The Rickshaw-Puller Poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay

Owl-Moon Night & The Rickshaw-Puller

Rating: 5.0


In owl-moon night
when doors are closed
in shut out light
lanes breathe morose

He carries the weight
dead in drunk sleep
in chilled night's sweat
of tightened grip

On side of street
men burning logs
seize some heat
as need too dogs

But he must run
errand of hell
till job is done
moon's face goes pale

Jangle hand's bell
veins swell up taut
marks frame frail
battle hard fought

From lane to lane
his stone feet roam
till rests his pain
on pavement home!

Friday, July 25, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: poverty
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Valsa George 26 July 2014

A very moving tale of the work worn night of a rickshaw puller! Yes, through the streets of Calcutta, it is a common sight! Slogging to make a living!

0 0 Reply
Lorraine Colon 25 July 2014

You describe his burden so well. I can imagine his joy when he finally reaches home.

0 0 Reply
Chuy Amante 25 July 2014

I love it! It has such a nice feel with a little tension! A+

0 0 Reply
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success