Gangadharan nair Pulingat..
He comes in the homes of our vicinity
In particular days in the weeks I remember
May be a Tuesday or Friday
He is a beggar a neglected human being
With despair and emotionless facial expression
Still we know he is a human being having feels
Showing his open hand or small pot
For getting the alms in such mercy of kindness
The poor man never asks anything to eat
Or never asked a cloth for his wear
Still we know he was a son of a kind mother
Where he got affection and breastfeed.
His face was full of black spots and wrinkles
Eyes were expressing depressed feeling
Non one is supposed to care the poor fellow
Still we know he is a human being related to us.
No hopes are there for a best future
No hopes for a better life
No hopes for regular meals, wash and wear
Still he continues his journey as a beggar.
None is serious in such matters of rehabilitation
Other than showing accusing fingers on poor fellows
Sometimes even accusing them as real thieves
Which have no basis of evidence at all.
The society must awake for a revival on charity
They must provide facilities for the failed ones
In fact there own plights are the creation of society
Rise to the occasion and give them some hopes
Is the solution what the Public have to do.
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Comments about this poem (Hopeless by Gangadharan nair Pulingat.. )
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(2 November 1994)
(24 January 1572 - 31 March 1631)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
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