A Poem Unborn

The poem is dead before it is born
Malformed foetus
Disjointed severed limbs
Swimming aimlessly
In a foggy marshland of
Barren amniotic fluid.
Tide swells
Waves kiss the sand
In a tedious continuum
The west wind rages
Like a wild Tasmanian devil.

The poem is kidnapped
Before it learns to walk
Swept off its little unsure feet
And hurled against flashy billboards
Glittering along the busy expressways.

The mother laments in her throes
Yet to deliver the unformed babe
In the stark, vacant,
White-washed sanitized labour room.

Rivers flow
Streams of blood and tears
Hills and the sky
Look away in remorse
As she holds up a lantern
Looking for the child
Who she has lost and never will find
In swanky busy fiscal Wall Street.

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About Madhumita Ghosh

Studied at Jadavpur University, Calcutta, India. M.A. M.Phil Ph.D in English. Associate Professor in a degree college affiliated to Calcutta university. Love reading, writing poems and short stories. Translation is another passion Have translated English Romantic poetry to Bengali and Tagore poems to English.

2 thoughts on “A Poem Unborn

  1. Louis Kasatkin

    A poem about,what appears to be about a poem unborn;the expectation of,in the very best sense, a well constructed literary conceit.But as the poem progresses it reveals itself to be about more than any simple premise or assumption allowed by the reader.The term,” the iron fist inside a velvet glove” might be appropriate?

  2. Madhumita Ghosh

    Thanks so much Louis for your perception of my thoughts that my poem carries, and for your well-observed comment.


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