Beauty and The Filth

As my writing dilemmas continue to haunt me, I went through a few old stuff that I wrote and I thought to myself, “What the heck! Let’s post them on the blog. Either they are good or they are bad but at least they are read (hopefully).”

I sit on a chair and begin to stare

Outside the window to see what’s there

The things I see dear Lord mighty

Let me explain just what I see

I see rickshaws, black and yellow

Scrubbed down by their owner fellows

You think they do a really good job

Just think where they get their water from

I see an extremely narrow road

That fits one bus and not anymore

I say try squeezing in just a car

You’re stuck in a jam for many hours

You can try shoving in a bike or two

They’ll probably run over a toe or two

But that’s okay as long as you skip

Out of its way and into a ditch

You must be wondering where people walk

You see we have something called as footpath

Oh no, I don’t mean the real ones

I mean those lovely invisible ones

Through all this junk and all this filth

I try to find some beauty that is

Hidden away in the chaotic land

Of buses and bikes and rickshaw stands

Like the orangey sunset I get to watch

The minute it is six I wait like a hawk

Or like the chirping green parakeets

It feels like I’m in a glorious melody

There is plenty of greenery in the trees

Swaying and swishing, feeling free

Birds are aflutter everywhere

In a city like ours, that’s very rare

The real treasure is the ground outside

Where children can play almost anytime

It’s a barren ground with nothing there

For kids that’s the best part of this place

© NJ

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