Hardik Vaidya (26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)
I am a steel box,8 feet wide, a little more in height,
20 feet long, and often a lovely 40 feet song.
I am born to be used. Opened stuffed opened emptied.
Feeding your hunger till times deplete.
I carry all, I ferry all, sheltering in my womb
Your desires, dreams, and your stock exchange boom.
That cross checked shirt, your girl friends skirt,
Brenda's dolly, Peters Polly, Shankar's lolly, Azan's cherry
All have ridden the ride on my ferry.
I get dented, I get bent, I get dirty, I get banged,
But my womb ensures your cash is always on the bang.
I am a metal box, with a wooden floor,
I agree with you a pigs head is a lesser bore.
But some times I do feel bad, I do get mad,
And I do feel very odd
When you say a box is a box is a box.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Shipping Container by Hardik Vaidya )
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