They Killed Him

They killed him.
Tonight he will be lying in the morgue
Like so many anonymous men
Who had no history
No relatives
No friends
No men who were kind
I heard they killed him in the evening
He was wandering naked in the streets
Trying to enter shops and begging for alms.
Each of them threw him out
The restaurants across the street where they serve meatballs to the rich
And the restaurant just beside it Where the band comes alive at night
And the traffic police just across the street whose pockets are full of bribes
They eat money these days
They have desolate rooms in their homes
Full of conscience that money can buy.
They murder significance
insignificance and echoes of remembrance,
They offer empathy and syphilis
They have mastered the art to be blind
Rolling in my bed tonight
I promised myself there will be no sleepless nights
The CCTV camera was wide awake
It registers tenderness,humorous voices and cruelty.
No, we do not rise
No one checks cameras
No one sees homeless madmen with amiable eyes
I heard the shopkeepers beat him black and blue
When he lay whimpering on the road
the city ran by
Spaced with apathy and the human fear of being hassled
But then who killed him?
Everybody has that coward in their bellies
Weeping their weakness and growing shrill mountains in their minds
I didn’t kill him
I wanted to hurt the men who hurt him
I had run down when I heard the story
There were closed shops unprecedented emotions,
silent trees and misty darkness.
An upraised situation has been knocked into a morgue
Somewhere in some part of the city
to forgetfulness
There will be no sleepless nights
Why is it then I weep for madmen, long nights,and faithful ghosts?
My childhood beliefs have been torn down
I know the real is different from poems
And poems are catharsis
And we are all there lying across the city
Tossing and turning tonight
And we are all so lonesome
Smashed by the palpable, the cruel and the absurd.

This entry was posted in Poetry on by .

About Poulome Mitra Shaw

Kolkata-born Poulome Mitra Shaw is a communication trainer by profession and had worked with various corporate organisations and well known schools. She did her graduation from Loreto College,holds a software engineering diploma. She lives with an understanding father in law, her only son Om Shaw who keeps her on her toes and her dog named Kulpi who is more of a gentleman than her son.She has been a keen reader,lover of poetry. At times when she is full of words she scribbles.Some of them got published in newspapers and few in anthologies like those of Brian Wrixon's,Inklinks,All the lonely people etc. Even CamelSaloon has published her. "All my dreams were caring woman"got an editor's pick. She is working on a book of poems with her editor Dr Ampat Koshy who has motivated her to write all over again. He has been extremely patient and had bestowed her with greater appreciation and understanding of poetry.

28 thoughts on “They Killed Him

      1. Louis Kasatkin

        There are far too many lines of inordinate length ,which from the casual reader’s perspective drag the attention right across the page. In many ways, rigorous redacting should have taken place prior to submission.

  1. Jagdish Keshav

    Poulome as I said earlier yesterday, your poems are soulful. This one in particular, is terrific since it hits the empathetic chord right away! The reality of street life where the abandoned, the unwanted or the unloved neglected lot is shown in its darkest depths.
    Keep it up Polly!…

  2. Vineetha

    Poulome, loved this one. You already know that. 🙂
    Powerful writing. Makes one look into oneself. To see society for what it is.

  3. Maya Dev

    Poulome……Your poem stir the reader deeply and theme very touching…Thought provoking, impactful, powerful and above all a superb poem.. Enjoyed it. 🙂

  4. saswati

    If people displayed the same anger towards the causes of the homeless as they are towards the homeless..the world would be so much a better place…a wonderful poem that forces introspection….

    1. poulome

      Thank You Saswati Sinha. I was angry when i was writing this poem. It was just this unfairness of it all. I hope people talk to their conscience next time they want to hit someone…they want to abuse someone…they want to hurt someone. Best reward is being read by you.

  5. Sarbajit De

    This is a painful reminder of the blind eye that we tend on one of the stark realities of our so called civilised society. The poem scores a bull’s eye in depicting the plight of the homeless which many of us tend to safely overlook. Proud of you. Keep on belting out such pieces of work which aim at reviving the importance of the dignity of Human life and the collective consciousness of our contemporary society .


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.