I recall my visits to home town,
Recall mornings and long walks down
Past a bridge and across a small river,
And that scene that sent in me a shiver:
A few women filling pots and kits
With a bowl from some dug up pits,
A few more awaiting their turn
To dig, sarees tucked in, upturned—
Their well-shaped thighs exposed bravely,
Body beauty beyond ordinary,
That still stays captured in mind's eye,
So clear, photographs might feel shy.
A beauty not merely youth-born,
Nor yet by sheer labour be gone,
By hard work put in with a smiling face,
A beauty born of blossoms of good grace,
Not the kind at cat walks we see,
Nor of the stuff fashion fests be,
It had seemed to me then,
And now when my memories pan,
The deity of beauty
Has never been Cupids,
It is made of sweat beads,
And hard work wrought honest duty!
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Reflections |17.04.2020|
Topic: beauty, nature
So very true. Beautiful tribute to one of a kind women whose beauty is never tinged with make up nor any embellishment. Yes, natural beauty is one that holds us spellbound.
Its not the boon of Cupid but the nature's gift for hard work
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautifully crafted and wonderfully presented. Magnificent rhyme and the flow of thoughts is just amazing. Loved reading it. Onto my Poem List.