Monday, 29 December 2008

Convalescent *


Days come tumbling one over the other
In silent succession
Talking to me in familiar gestures—

Now the municipal garbage gatherer
Emptying the bin of yesterday’s waste,

Then the stout unsmiling milk vending dame
Carrying light her kettle and measure,

The newspaper boy flinging the day's fare
With the same precision over the gate,

The twin-jingle of his bycycle bell
Vanishing round the corner of the street...

I keep reciting the lines again and again
As though learning by heart
The jingle of an old rhyme.

*****

2 comments:

balachandran v said...

At times the monotony of life could be depressing; then again, it comforts... like the lullabies one's mother sings, it gently prods you to a dreamless sleep... sometimes making you wish you never woke up...But what happens when one day, the routine is broken? When there is no more you to read?

'reading them again and again'...
It is a beautiful poem, Venu.Why? because I read it over and over and reflect on it. Thats what a good poem does to me.

P. Venugopal said...

Days bump into one another so fast nowadays that I am often confused. Wasn't it only yesterday we celebrated last new year? And it is already the next one tomorrow. Days and weeks and months and years are getting telescoped. To see the difference between one day and the next, you have to be intensively attentive now; you have to listen to the subtlest of the variations in the familiar gestures.