A bullet with my name…
(They said,)
There is a bullet with my name written on it.
It set out of a pipe, hot, energetic.
It has a metal determination, cold.
I can anticipate, feel the bullet’s approach
behind my back; still a long way to cover.
The bullet swims through the stale air of the city,-
over the roofs of the old and new buildings,
dribbling the innocent girls having a chat;
it stops at the crossings; let the slow train pass;
at the noon market it has a siesta
with flies buzzing around its explosive nose.
Awake it asks the idle boy aiming a bird,
“Where does he live? The man whose name is on me?”
I know I should answer him. Rightly? Yes.
=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar
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Comments: 57
Blessings
I've heard it said that, "Their are only two types of people on this planet, the dead and the dying. "
Once again you strike home.
Since my mail has increased for my group, I only have time to say, thanks for posting to my group, Anythingwriting
Thanks for posting in Journey Into Poetry !
10 for you!
Have a Great & powerful day W/J!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! /a>
Love them grandbabies enough to pray I "DON'T" get what I deserve for a long, long time.