Floating Woes Poem by Paramananda Mahanta

Floating woes

The morning woke
Red faced,
Blushed faced for you and me,
When tired night passed
with a chickening whistle,
Reminded its return,
To tear up my breast
With some broken threads.

My gumsare swollen
For ill brushed teeth,
Withcourse hunger bread,
And open eyed sleep,
A little glimpse of life,
still waits with a weary plea,
Seeks to go
To beat hardship,
Even the air is bleak.

I am still holding
my handful grains,
For my mother earth and me,
The soil is foreign
For its ownership,
My grains can't produce
As my wishes are stolen,
For the self divisible me,
To rant the remainder zero
With all aches of my labour.

Copyright 2020
Paramananda Mahanta
All rights reserved