When I sit behind closed doors and windows in chilly bin
listening to faint anthem of birds
fluttering to welcome apricitic sun
I see memories hanging against the walls
like paintings of homeless daily workers,
children, women and beggars
In the streets and pavements wrapped in
tattered cloths like corpses
whom sleep slips into clouds of smog,
to awaken in a new morning to get ready
for tiring odd jobs on work sites and streets
splintered by cruel winter wind.
They wade through freezing day with frozen limbs peeping through tattered
clothes and smoke charred dusty cloaks
to slip into the the chilly silence of night
sitting around the brooding hungry dogs
waiting for left overs or nothing.
Chandra Shekhar Dubey
A poignant and descriptiive verse written with clarity of thought and mind. An insightful piece of poetry...
Thank you, dear Dike for your wirds of appreciation and encouragement.
Beautiful poem dear poet! Loved the adorable expression...5 stars
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Excellent depiction of homeless daily workers in winter.Truth reflected.