Cry No More, Penelope

They weave, they weave They weep and they weave Smarting under the persecuting whips - Verbal, literal or carnal whips They weep, they weep. Locust-like they swarm the streets To reach the factories before the sun settles well In its diurnal rounds. There are no circumstances unavoidable Reach they must the gates at the hour final…. Sartorial gladiators they are Salary they draw but in the Etymological sense- they are well off Enough to buy salt. Eagle-eyed lustful look Do the ups and downs of their physique hook - Surveying the geography of their constitution And the lecherous bosses or carnally starving colleagues Devotedly concentrate on each continent And ready to pay compliment Only if they are crowned with the sovereignty to discuss Issues that make the gynecologists blush! Penelopes of the modern times, Your hands transform loan-sharks Into pot-bellied, globe-trotting tycoons. These textile Sheikhs When their family or female(s) sneeze Millions and millions they unsqueeze As if they are sylvestral leaves Falling beauteously in the vernal breeze! But alas! These helicoptered and villaed Villains, as if through the alchemy of a vile wand Into penniless paupers transformed When the Midas-hands entreat them To get exchange for their tears and sweat. All big talks, fountains of philanthropy run dry - And they weave and cry They weave and cry! Cry no more, Penelope, weave no more, Never will your Odysseus come Cease weaving, cease embroidering. Yet the dream-laden Penelopes Weep and weave, They weep and they weave! They weep and they weave!!