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Nishant Upadhyay Poem
****"No better tomorrow""***
Before the sun could have made its appearance,
her eyes are forced open,
with the outburst of the little one's patience;
Frustrated, sleep deprived and irritated,
She jolts her head with the steel roof,
roof of sufferings,
covering the trek for butter and bread;
She tries to calm her baby incongruously,
She fails then slaps him for weeping,
and wonders if she would, ever, live happily;
The aghast kid, silently, sleeps in her arm,
she hums a strange lullaby,
repelling the foul odor of the swarm;
swarm full of poverty stricken flies,
who wakes up and walks to nearby mill,
to earn bread;
while lifting the weight, she cries;
She cries due to oppressive force upon head,
all of a sudden, she realizes her delay,
and she hurries,
as she doesn't want to get wasted;
She precipitates the boy in cradle,
made of a cloth; tattered, shoddy and ignored,
same as her life, nothing but a battle;
The battle not for glory but for survival,
the battle not to live but to breath,
the battle...
to remove stains off the crystal;
Her eyes are kept open at night,
as she, mostly, is hungry and anxious,
anxious...
because she experiences dark voids of light;
She reaches the site and
pleads to get work,
one bricks falls,
the manger goes berserk;
He continues to slap her, reddened are her cheeks,
She won't protest the abuse for sake of her job,
she walks to a corner and silently weeps;
After going through the mental turmoil,
she reaches her decrepit slum,
confronting her stinking fate,
as she would, again, be slapped by his husband,
He was hungry and she is late;
Without uttering a sound, she cooks,
Once all her children are sleepy,
She lies down and thinks about the world of crooks;
She is feeling dizzy and is about to sleep,
but before her eye lids could have kissed,
on her dusty legs, something creeps;
Goosebumps are on way and she is scared,
scared of what follows next,
she cries as crunched are her breasts;
the animal enters into her violently,
and squeezes her soul out of her,
he is gone; She is unsatisfied and injured
She cries but she endures it daily;
She is sobbing but is scared to sleep,
the pain is oozing out of her,
as the scars are green and deep;
she gazes at the steel roof,
and a drop of tear caresses her cheek,
but the water won't wash away her sorrow,
because she feels; she is poor,
and for her, there is not going to come a better tomorrow.
Copyright © Nishant Upadhyay | Year Posted 2014
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Details |
Nishant Upadhyay Poem
Here I stand,
gazing at the ripples of pond;
cool breeze hitting against my face,
reminding me of what we share,
our love bond;
with the hint of twilight over your face,
Reddened cheeks and roseate lips;
you entwined your soul with mine,
enjoying the mood with blush, smile and winks;
two years have passed since that blissful moment,
and we rode through many lows and highs;
but we held ourselves together,
whether we met the chuckles of joy or separation's sighs;
And a brook giggled nearby,
changed the course of my thought;
I looked at the horizon;
and many sweet memories, to me, it brought;
your pouted lips being rubbed by mine,
our bodies joined emitting luster of crystalline,
the tight and warm embrace I take you into;
you are all over my mind,
no matter what do I do;
Every time I feel weak or alone,
the gush of your soul brings me home;
I know you are mine,
and can make out your face,
even in life of mist or dew;
For that,
I promise my baby,
Forever,
I am gonna stand by your side and love you.
Copyright © Nishant Upadhyay | Year Posted 2014
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Details |
Nishant Upadhyay Poem
*****Tasting the defeat****
Here he is, O'lord;
Lying in an old, sullen and reeking room,
twisted within chains of anger and hatred;
Glowing with the reminiscence of past,
waiting for the death, once he is defeated;
A cacophony is being echoed,
and his gaze is loosing fight with the haze,
heaved with burdens of expectations, once he used to lift;
he is nothing now but a smoke of his own,
withering away as the currents of air shift;
Between the soul and the sane, he tries to suppress the rift;
Devoid of a decent, genuine motive,
he fails to wear his old persona,
and it doesn't matter how hard he tries;
He speaks, shouts, cries, murmurs and sobs,
holds himself with crossed arm and swollen eyes;
burning in his pain and agony,
he, slowly, exhales the mist in his mind,
Tired with the deafening shouts,
He gets terrified with the mere whisper of wind;
he lifts up his eyes and turns,
to look at me in the mirror,
into a painful smile, his lips are twisted;
he pleads before me to save myself,
before he turns into a corpse and I get defeated.
Copyright © Nishant Upadhyay | Year Posted 2014
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