Winter has gone.
Spring has gone,
The flowery bushes are gone too;
Their place is now taken up by the vagabonds
With their matted hair, tattered rags,
Drugged blood and bloodshot eyes;
Where they have come from,
How they reached here,
Who their parents were,
Their mothers who once harboured them in their wombs
And cradled them lovingly in their arms after birth,
No one knows.
Blissful, unconscious, and oblivious,
They sleep on Delhi's dusty pavements under a hot, pitiless sun;
Orphaned, nameless, meaningless,
The scum of the city,
Hanging on precariously to lives
That could have created millions.
A touchy poem indeed, The heat waves are waiting for them to test their patience and perseverance.
God bless and protect those vagabonds......nice lines by you..
I take the opportunity to felicitate u for completing 60 th journey here.. Written very nicely..poignant art of work..worth praising prose..
A real portrait of urban homeless ones. Your selection of words are superb madam. I felt attracted to your poem at the very outset. I would love to go through all of your poems as soon as I have time. Thanks for the poem, nice and beautiful.Subhas
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is my 60th poem on my webpage on this site. Thank you, PH, for all the love and attention I have received here.