To The Factory Gate - Poem by Amitava Chakrabarty
Oh our fecund soil once had briskly bred-
Robust paddy with gleaming golden coats,
Our toiling farmers' sweat and blood did yield-
Wholesome wheat, sweet as Cambrian oats.
But one day came the cars with hooting horns
And behind them the cadres in police vans
They wrenched away our father's pastoral lands
'Accept the pittance or face the frying pans.'
Your land will give us chemicals and savvy cars;
Declared their boss in a severe upbraiding voice
Let your birds lose plumage in septic scars
Let your blood turn toxic, we have no choice.
Today we cough our way to the factory gate,
As daily labours, we have embraced our fate.
This poem was published in a magazine named 'Exposure' from University of Cumbria, and is being published in my second book ' So I Used Gray & other poems'
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