Email Poem

Your IP Address: 18.191.53.120

Your Email Address:

To Email Address:

Subject

Personal Note:

Poem Title:

Poem

the third floor of a six-storied building,
silent room of three family members,
father, mother and a son

the son corporate job holder
in this populous city,
punctuality, sincerity, responsibility
makes him busy in his daily job

in the parent's room
crystal eye-glasses on the tea table,
Dainik Janakantha on the easy chair,
cigarette ashtray full of burned ashes.
on the tea table empty teacup,
mother comes in this room for betel leaf
though busy in the hassle for the lunch,

well the charmed picture of the great leader
hanging on the wall,
the father of Bengali nations
seeing silently all
three-four footsteps ahead of the balcony
the far around full with city drainage garbage
with floating lichens and mosses,
crows coming with crowing,
dogs coming with barking,
some wayward street child coming
with an iron made thin stick
to finding something
for surviving best,

on the small city garbage mound
sometimes ambulance of unknown medical
comes there and discharges some black polythene baggage,
dogs and crows run to these
as if competing for these mystifying baggage
are there any palatable dishes for them?
nobody knows without the wayward street child



-Tuesday, July 2, 2019 Chattogram

CAPTCHA Preview

Type the characters you see in the picture

Required