Empty oyster shells
Life in metros,
Becomes a
Series of
Empty encounters,
Resembling
Oyster shells
Strung together
Artfully,
Humming in the
Sun-kissed breeze—
Outside hard,
The shells but
Inside blank
And gaping,
Found on the beach,
By a solitary walker,
After the sunset,
Left there in a great hurry,
By a thin urchin,
Curly-headed,
In torn half-pants,
Feet bare,
The kid perhaps
Afraid of the dark,
And the soft shadows that
Always follow,
Such a fleeing figure,
And, of the violent beatings
By an alcoholic father,
Cussing, cursing,
On his unsteady feet,
In a dark hut—
Harboring many secrets,
And a silent ghost
Of a mother,
Seen often
By a crying child,
The little thatched hut,
Standing alone,
Decrepit,
At the edge
Of the long beach,
Like an abandoned boat,
On the moonless nights,
When a lonely sea sighs,
Heard by that lonely child
And a soul encased in a
Flat in a
High-rise.
Destiny Poets
Uniting and celebrating the best "Writers" and "Poetry" from around the world centred out of Destiny Church Wakefield
The flotsam and jetsam of everyday existence meticulously observed and forensically examined under the microscope of poetry.
Thanks Louis.
Even though the poem takes the long route still it attains its destination giving us the feel of the smell of the sea ,the empty oysters shells going a long way to offer us some food for thought.
Thanks Lokesh for lovely comment.
Midst of hustles survives ragged lives..loved the metaphor in this poem Sunil Sharma Sir..
Such a beautiful description! I loved it.