Mamta Agarwal

Rookie - 0 Points (March 27,1951 / India)

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! Are We Misfits- Feel Intrigued! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! - Poem by Mamta Agarwal

Grey pigeon flutters on ledge of concrete.
Wonder, how it survives on urban streets.
Seen them flock in city squares as folks throw seeds.
Unlike hawks don’t swoop down and snatch with greed.

Dusk falls gets draped in a pall of thick smog.
A few sparks rise as I add some new logs.
Glance at fireplace, feeling somewhat woeful.
Reminisce about my city beautiful.

Childhood, open spaces, song of Bulbul.
Cycling to school in fog, feel bit wistful.
Now cooped up on seventh floor in a high rise.
Eavesdropp at my avian mate and realise

With surprise, we are misfits and loners.
Why it shuns trees and prefers asphalt floors?
Its eyes look sort of haunted, rarely speaks.
Don’t recall lately with anything in its beak.

Lost in thought I pull up my patchwork quilt.
Just then a cloud bursts and rain falls in sheets.
At dawn, wobble to window, feeling groggy.
The ledge is deserted, covered with bird droppings.

Oh, my ally of last night, have a safe flight.
No words, speech: intuitively shared our plight.
Pray you reach home back with your kith and kin
And your life is filled with joy, peace and bliss.


Chandigarh, a city in Northern India is called city beautiful


Comments about ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! Are We Misfits- Feel Intrigued! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! by Mamta Agarwal

  • Saadat Tahir (12/16/2009 1:58:00 AM)


    Mamtaji ur capacity to navigate from the humdrum to the un spoilt beauty of rural settings leaves one a bit sad and the tinker of metallic bells in the necks of toiling buffalo….suddenly come alive.
    The urban glut and blitz are now so far from nature that threw up life, a sort of necessary evil…if I may

    Deep down there is this desire for a return to the un-convoluted peace and tranquility of the sadhu….why we are awestruck by fluttering masses of avian grandeur…is a an answer in itself. the inherent musicality of schooling birds are such a treat and they too seem to mirror the beauty and inherent rhythm of nature.

    ur lament is awash with nostalgia and the debris of life’s compulsions… a sad and very reflective poem, beautifully –artfully done…I wish u well!

    Congratulations on a beautiful piece… Regards
    cheers and ten
    (Report) Reply

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  • (12/12/2009 8:53:00 AM)


    lovely write.. I too feel it sometimes...are we misfits? (Report) Reply

  • premji premji (12/10/2009 3:17:00 AM)


    dear mamtaji,
    we poets too are real misfits in the globalized new world...........
    (Report) Reply

  • (12/9/2009 6:58:00 AM)


    IN THIS WORLD WITH MORE HAWKS THAN DOVES, - AN ARTIST DOES OCCASIONALLY FEEL THAT HE IS A MISFIT! THE NOBLE PEACE PRIZE HAS
    NOT BROUGHT ANY APPRECIABLE CHANGE FOR US EITHER! BUT I STILL LIKE TO PIN MY HOPE ON THE DOVE WHICH BROUGHT BACK A TWIG IN ITS
    BEAK AND SAT ON THE NOAH'S ARK TO GIVE HIM THE WELCOME MESSAGE THAT THE FLOOD WATERS WERE RECEEDING & LAND WAS IN SIGHT! -Raj
    (Report) Reply

  • (12/6/2009 8:35:00 PM)


    Intriguing thoughts avian drifting...you use the pigeon symbol very effectively there...between the past and the present, amidst changing environments bathed in the sporadic raining new life styles where do we stand? fit unfit misfit? nice theme nice delberation...

    Those pigeons there...do you feed them, Mamta or are they feeding you nice on your poetics? 10
    (Report) Reply

  • (12/4/2009 3:13:00 AM)


    Intriguing link between misfits. The concluding lines speak of compassion and empathy. Great work Mamta. (Report) Reply

  • Naseer Ahmed Nasir (12/3/2009 11:51:00 AM)


    Mamta, I wonder how you get fit and tune in to every environment rural or urban to become misfit in the end. You could not hide the wave of sadness flowing unseeingly all through this wonderful poem. Birds are ancient and sacred beauty of a place. There is a small park just a few hundred yards from my house full of pigeons of every color. I visit them frequently. My little grandson Fozon is crazy for these pigeons and we have mutual secret understanding to visit these birds whenever he comes with his mother to see me. I don't know what else to say about this poem but it made me a bit sad for a while. Is that misfit ness of my feelings or something else?
    Regards

    Naseer
    (Report) Reply

  • (12/3/2009 7:18:00 AM)


    great astonishing composition Mamta...I am always in awe of your poems! ! ! ! Hats off (Report) Reply

  • (12/3/2009 7:15:00 AM)


    Your lovely poem shows how adaptable both human and avian species are. Today cities for me are alien places, places to visit when you have too. I spent most of my working life in cities, retired to more rural climes, hated it at first, I missed the cities buzz. Today I would not return. The way our world is going most people will live in them in the future. I feel it is a crying shame and wrong. I am sure the pigeons bring you lots of joy and i am sure they will enjoy your lovely prayer.

    Warm regards Bobx
    (Report) Reply

  • (12/3/2009 7:11:00 AM)


    Is it an old to a loved one or your beautiful? I was lost at some point.whichever way, a good piece which never left me in piece in spite of its sorrowful undertones (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, December 3, 2009

Poem Edited: Thursday, December 3, 2009


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