Sunday, 7 April 2013

Waiting for a New Dawn




Under a tree she sat frozen,           
braving the brutal cold wind.
Face full of creases and wrinkles,
mind, of undying old melancholies.
Victim of Time’s constant blows
a vegetable had she become, with
matted hair, trembling hands and empty mind.
 Looking out for the last sun-set,
she was out there waiting  and moaning,
tending the scars of her life.


 Broken long was her mirror of memory
making her a hapless, rootles recluse.
Thro the splinters, she still saw
the splendors that once glowed her home,
her mom filling harmony around her,
feeding her, nursing her and adoring her.
Nights saw her mom a singing Koel,
when she chanted munificent lilts.
So soft and soft, so sweet and sweet,
it made her sleep an insouciant sleep.


 ‘Mother gone to god’, said her dad,
when, on a wintry morn, she woke up.
Motherless, she felt life a real drag;
 only void and vacuum around her.
Ever hearing mom’s sweet lilts in ears
she began walking the hard terrains of life
with a father who soon brought home a new wife.
A wife, ever tending his libido, drove
from home all memories of dear mom
 made it morally askew and abominable.


 Alone and abandoned on dad’s death,
she grew up in a farm away from home
toiling out all through day
 to keep the pangs of hunger at bay.
Living lonely in a lust-strewn world
she had nocturnal animals
crawling around her forever.
 ’ What is husband?’
she moaned, lying awake during nights.
‘Will I have one’? she thought thro tears.


 Floating on the dark ocean of life,
a wastrel she had become with no man
ever ready to give her a Wedding Bliss.
Feeling like the moon gleaming on a desert
she wept and wept for a husband;
wept and wept for a baby-girl whom she’d
like to carry on her shoulders and
sing to her mom’s old soothing lilts,
so soft and soft, so sweet and sweet,
to make the baby sleep an insouciant sleep.


 She sat frozen under a tree
Braving brutal cold winds.
 Face full of creases and wrinkles,
Mind, of dark old melancholies.
Victim of Time’s constant blows
a vegetable she had become at eighty with
matted hair, trembling hands and empty mind.
When a derelict became life, calling no shots;
When shattered dreams putting out her hopes
She, the incorrigible, was still there, squatting
and
Waiting for a New Dawn.


[The Art of Living presupposes that we’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen. A tenacious one will wait for a New Dawn even when he/she has one foot out in the limbo.]

Image Courtesy: Google



24 comments:

  1. Thanks for your visit and comments.

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  2. Very touching. And yes, God sends us to live coz he wants us to brave it out against all odds in life, thats the true lesson life teaches us.

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  3. Anguish, Acute and Intense write up.Deeply moved .

    Travel India

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  4. An impressive and a touching poem .
    there are so many ,who keep waiting for a new dawn.
    May Dawn come soon.

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  5. Wow, heart touching, you have a great way of expressing your feelings through your words...I envy you..Great Work :D

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  6. :D amazing lines .... sir !!victims of Time's constant blow what else are we !!

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  7. Nice and imaginative narration. Yes, there's always light at the end of the tunnel and HOPE is what keeps us going. After reading the title, what hit my mind was "Waiting for another DON"!

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  8. Firstly thank you for stopping by on my post and then gracing it by voting for it.
    Then i am led to this sensitive and kind world of yours. Read this one entirely...twice. More than tugging the heart the composition just inspires.
    i seem to be admiring everything...the picture...the words...the simplicity of the great message conveyed.
    Insouciant...lovely...haven't heard it for ages but right now. :)

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  9. Beautiful..darkest hour is usually just before the dawn

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  10. Very heart touching poem which brought tears to my eyes... The way you have depicted her hope in the ending is amazing.

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  11. That was truly beautiful and heart touching. Its amazing hope people can still hope, even when they touch rock bottoms of despair in life.
    Bhavya
    Just Another Blog

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  12. Moving lines those were. And so true, life should keep going whatever happens.

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  13. her journey was painful and destination too seems to hard.

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  14. Speaks of the untold miseries but still to derive the inner repository of strngth and keep movig on.
    Reading this piece I feel that most of us are so blessed.
    Thanx for the wonderful piece :)

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  15. the poetry does justice to d picture...very touching

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  16. Poignant read. In the first two verses, I could feel the picture painted with words.

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  17. Beautiful .. left me speechless .. what more I cn say ..

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