What Does It Matter.... Poem by Nosheen Irfan

You give us three sharp pictures of the brutality of poverty and in contrast enjoying spring appears to be a rich man's diversion while others suffer abjectly. You don't add any further comment, just let the images of poverty resonate inn our minds and of course our consciences. There is an added layer of meaning for one like myself who have read your poems of nature and know how you appreciate natural beauty. To turn away from that delight in sympathy for the poor is a moral gesture by you of the highest quality. Your heart is in this poem and it touches our hearts.

Hi Nosheen, Very poignant write. You are a poet always enjoying the natural beauty, the bounties of nature. In this background, your poem gains much more relevance. Everybody enjoys the smell of rain. But smell of rain so sweet, does not matter to those for those who can not distinguish it from that of dung. For those whose concern is always food and shelter, spring does not mean anything. But the final image touches the heart of the reader: To the bare-feet hunger trotting on the broken tarmac searching rotten fruit in dump. The reference to orphaned children living in abject poverty, as HUNGER personified, is beyond words. Quite profound! 10++

yes, someone answers? what does spring matter..? very strange this life is. your poem is heart touching, though the question can't be answered

This is an uncompromising poem. You have seen clearly the injustice of human society, and your response is a poem which serves the cause of social justice. The images of destitute people are so powerful. Your poem fulfills a necessary aspect of the poet's make-up John Keats expressed through the voice of a goddess, a muse. When he asks, how does one become a poet, she replies, For true poets THE MISERIES OF THE WORLD / ARE MISERY, AND WILL NOT LET THEM REST. That's what your poem does: through it you suffer with the unfortunate and summon us to show compassion. And so Keats and the Muse both say you are a true poet.

Spring is not worth much to the oppressed and forgotten.

A thought provoking poem.........................................................................

What does the spring matter… to the unfavored flesh for whom smell of rain is mixed with the smell of dung. To the toiling heart caged in the sweating chest of low-paid labor. To the bare-feet hunger trotting on the broken tarmac searching rotten fruit in dumps. - - - - - -A heart touching and poignant write which reflects your kindness and empathy for the poor for whom spring has no meaning.

To the toiling heart! ! Thanks for sharing.