Feet Poem by Indira Renganathan
Feet
My heart punched my mind
No more watching it then said
It all happened just when I noticed
When a train journey me carried
A man of darkness shaking his toes
Swaying his legs with dirty soles
Meant to me it a lot
A man of conceited sort
Then to myself I interrogated
Stupid custom, Why ever prostrating dirty feet
Seems kicking, chucking on bad treat
Dirty folks never to be trusted
And who is not dirty?
Are humans perfect and pretty?
Suddenly sparkled on sparking feat
The temple idol, Its unshaken feet
Oily, grimy to kick the greedy and dirty..
'Hey stop
And prostrate' my heart punched me
'And who is not dirty? Are humans perfect and pretty? ' Like the dirty feet, let's think about ourselves. Secretly we are enormously dirty. If our dust could assemble on our faces, could we see each others' faces? Thanks for this excellent poem,10+++
a habbit of ours..nowadays a political stunt too..whether hygenic or no..whether there i respect in it or not..all depends and varies person to person..arare subject
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 9:01:32 AM # 1.0.0.1119
And who is not dirty? Are humans perfect and pretty? - - - - - - - - Yes, a very wise question to ponder before pointing fingers at others..A nice poem.