M.D Dinesh Nair
The Irony We Count On... - Poem by M.D Dinesh Nair
The burning Sun buries himself inside a black blanket
The planets have all been burnt up already
And the galloping asteroids get stranded in the milky way.
First they were in love for long years,
Then the lady opened her mouth and told at a pitch high,
'I hate my lover, I hate him and him alone'.
A woman is pouring wine into her man`s glass,
With a grin that has a charm captivating
But he is lost in the memoirs of his long lost mother.
An old mongrel lays in the uneven roadside,
He is struggling to wag his tail at the passersby
But there is a new puppy strolling on every soft floor inside.
The octogenarian drinks his soup from a cup
And his teeth are too weak to bite a piece of meat.
He can yet fantacise about a young lass.
BUT READ ON...
The sulking moon stands nearby and is consoling the sun,
The warm rays of the latter surround the sky up and high
And the withering water lagoons give birth to life infinite.
First they were living polar apart for long
Then she and he met at a grove full of myrtle
There she told him, ' I know I cannot live without you'.
A lady lets out her sweet singsong into her man`s ears
With his body paralysed long before she came into his life
And he has been lost in the wilderness of parentage unknown.
A young canine is chasing a child on the street in the dark
He had no tail to wag nor a mind to feel for the tender boy.
But there is a small puppy lying as a guard near the infant in the cradle.
The septuagenarian bites and eats a hard nut
And his strong limbs climb a hill vertical
He begins to talk about the nearing sunset.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
I too have been telling the same to students
And I have been searching for live examples.
I have found a few.
Comments about The Irony We Count On... by M.D Dinesh Nair
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe