The Indian English poetry audience likes to see and hear
Julie, Bobby, Daisy,
Dolly, Ruby, Pinky, Rosy,
Sweetie, Posy,
Reading their poems
Not the gent poets like me,
The fashionistas and socialites are taking the centrestage,
Divorcees and singles
Having live-in relationships,
Unmarried and young
Or the married with henpecked hubbies.
Showing the bobby-cut hair, wavy and golden,
With the golden-rimmed glasses,
Just like a valentine
Date they in their poetry,
Sending flying kisses,
Scattering the rose petals,
Read they their poems,
The poems of extra-marital affairs,
Broken relationships and divorces.
The audience too likes them, loves to hear them,
Admire and appreciate
Rather than me
As and when I rise to the stage, they start
Making a noise,
But when a beauty parlour girl rises to the stage,
They turn silent
And start seeing her fashion and designing,
A Rajneeshite before, a yogan,
A girl mod, frank and bold.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your poem speaks volumes of truths, worthy of admiration.