Memories Poem by Boudhayan Mukherjee

I brood about measured iambs,
Feel sympathy for different poets
Very indifferent Indian poets.
They once taught in Chicago univ
Half-witted students, owls
Like me in purblind darkness.

So when I speak about them
My memories turn black and sticky.
I brood about the clock with a single hand.

A teacher is one's mentor
When I teach I wish to be my own mentor
Often shaking my fists at the black-board.

Bored? Yes, the students are always
Bored to tears.Go and dig your sorrows
In wet-slate darkness.But my sublime
Interest is in pink dresses and matted tresses.