Tideblack
By the night they haul the black canisters,
surreptitiously, stealthily they move
midst a moonless night with rabid dogs barking.
They say take care. “Take care?” yes, the death is
hot to handle, fragile; a leak may emit
unstable danger. “Take care?” yes, they will.
With care they will throw the toxic wastes
into the river flowing beside the place,
the factory, beside the barbwire fence.
Haul those poisons and dump them in the stream,
caring not to spill on their own yard.
They cannot see
the stream has changed
the direction
it is coming towards
their home=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar
Creek
The tiny creek
is a play stream
during summer;
she can hike her dress and cross it with grace.
Mom is following her chirping fledgling.
Soon another little puffy face girl joins,
a friend who does not pass ugly remarks
on her whiteness, on her chalky face,
colorless hair, body, fear of sun.
Other girls of course do call her whity;
their mothers whisper, “She’s albino.”
As if it does matter; spells misfortune.
She cringes to a corner with her
only friend who stutters; it is their world
circled by a replica of the creek
they cross on the road to the public school.
It takes a different shape once it rains.
© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar
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Comments: 45
second~frienship~kinship in beautiful otherness~
Creek transcend the harshness of humanity with the true loving acceptance of youth untainted in mind and spirit.
So well done, this literary banquet you serve. Hugs
What is the cost of a precious life? The moneychangers double their price. The children cry.
The second poem touched me even more. I was always the kid left out - the new kid - we moved every few years growing up and my friends were always the outsiders - the girl with the glass eye, the genius, the red head who carried a briefcase to school, the girl whose profile was like a rat ... these children who band together in their specialness fully understand the life within. Great poem.
There are those among us who would regard these poems as fairy tales and I wish they were just that. But practices like you described (beautifully, wonderfully, graphically described) still continue to go on under the cloak of darkness, under the cloak of misrepresentation; and both people and nature suffers.
Kudos Kushal!
http://www.gather.com/viewArticle.action?articleId=281474977738167
Something is definitely terribly wrong with the world as it is described in the first poem... but even there one can glimpse the sparks of genuine friendship and compassion like in the second one... excellent, dear Kushal! :-)
Blessings and best wishes - S.
Both are very good, and very needed.
What they are ding in the first one goes on much too often. I wish people would learn fron history.
The second one, I though kind of sad, sort of happy too ::)
Thanks for posting to my group, Anythingwriting
Creek is a testament to those who are derided because they are different.
hugs~blessings~my humble friend
cant imagine what it would be like to have red eyes and extremely pale skin
the same goes for the only african kid in an all european school of course
love how the toxic dumpers get their comeuppance very clever bro:)
The girl found another one with a uniqueness.