Damn dirty I am

Oh’ dear father I forgot most of past things
All lively days from birth with funny linger
And your love feels with tenacious teachings.

My toddling steps clutching your assured finger
With this mad rush of work I forgot those times
Your supporting strong hands not there any longer.

Oh’ dear childhood friends I forgot all our chimes
Our joys, school days, plays and kiddy ecstasies
Not remembering at all my youthful primes.

Funny lives we have with new intimacies
And thinking about just present and future
We forget our adolescent fantasies.

We loose us in materialistic rupture
Damn dirty I am in this social structure.

@copyright@ manoj krishna sanyal

Comments: 16

jessie voigts Jun 21, 2007, 9:28am EDT

loved the toddling steps part the most - great imagery!

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Barbary Chaapel Jun 21, 2007, 10:14pm EDT

Manoj,

This seems to be a new page in your poetry, and I like it very much.

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manoj sanyal Jun 26, 2007, 11:50pm EDT

Thanks Amy, jessie and Barbary for reading and commenting... I'm encouraged.
THANKS AGAIN.

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John F Walter Jul 11, 2007, 4:59pm EDT

Quite a different read from you, manoj, but still your unique voice and style persists. Fascinating poem about growing up in a sense embedded already in the world.

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manoj sanyal Jul 12, 2007, 11:20pm EDT

Thanks John... your comments always encourage me.

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Tracey W. Jul 14, 2007, 2:18pm EDT

Very provocative. Well done.

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manoj sanyal Jul 16, 2007, 10:22am EDT

Thanks Tracy for appreciation.

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Elsie Duggan Jul 31, 2007, 1:43pm EDT

This is a very well written poem and it is one that makes you think. I haven't read many of your things, but you commented on something I wrote and that brought me here and I will read more. Thank you for your comment

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manoj sanyal Jul 31, 2007, 11:40pm EDT

Thanks Elsie.
Good luck.

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Sharon C. Sep 27, 2007, 9:45pm EDT

I understand exactly what you mean

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manoj sanyal Oct 20, 2007, 11:21pm EDT

Thanks Sharon.
Have nice time.

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Tom C. Nov 17, 2007, 2:25pm EST

Manoj - it is often that while working at something I don't see how filthy I may have become until a break in the work. You are at that reflection point, and must, as we all, weigh the filth against the object, as well as the struggle necessary to cleanse ourselves. Excellent poem about life, and how we too often look forward without regard for our past.

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