Yashovardhan Kulkarni


Shoe Shine War Songs - Poem by Yashovardhan Kulkarni

And that day showd up again,
A day that shows up again, as you work away from it, again
A day that can not be missed,
After the plans had given in to the string music of the wind

Honey that perculated from the laughters that were out of the deeds that were appreciateed,
Expectations that were given promissory notes to live in sky locked heavenly bunglows with abundant light and fertile lands

And that day showed up again,
The cloth that is sewed with her Sun,
She, she with the ears for it

Unaware of her enemy,
In a predicament that is now ripe
Grown out of her own ways of flippancy

She starts out again,
Never tired, never aware

As the day progresses,
She lifts it up,
Bit by bit,
On her shoulders,
Her shoe shine war songs

Bit by bit,
As her pants are given no choice but to work on her shoes,
Wrinkles on her shoes, she blames

She mutters, 'Must do it! ', 'Must be done! '
Mutters that overpower her, now, uncaring breaths

'Glories of my war songs must be obvious from my shoes! ', she makes you and me understand
'Obvious! '

Even with sharp sound of her feet,
She must confirm,
She calls out,
She has to know what we think of it,

You and me, all of us
You and me, all of us

She seeks out people,
'Hello, Hello? ', 'Hello! '
And her voice echoes back from the sky with falling bees,
Nothing! , no answer

Just the summer she created,
Out of the hisses of her shoulders

And those skies that she says are above the horizon,
We only know from the bees falling on the ground,
Dead
Dead
Dead

Those songs are now termed meaningless,
Her wit is now damned

Times of distress
And disbelief
She befriends a man in the yellow outfit
Promises him army and marching shoes in return of the world

Man in the yellow outfit whispers things to the unresponding world,
Things,
Things,
Business like propositions,
Colorless, though they are,
He does not care

While people of the unresponding world,
Dull with constantly engaging in loose and gain mathematics,
Ask for wind,
Ask for string music that was lost,

She, bewildered with anger,
Orders her now tiny little army
To march again on,
Her shoe shine war songs
Her shoe shine war songs

Topic(s) of this poem: love and life


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, September 3, 2015



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