Poems by S.L.Peeran (BANGALORE )
CHILL PENURY AND POVERTY
Tossing in bed gets up, with a murmur,
Unblessed with luxuries of life.
With troubled-heart, severe aches or deep pain.
None to share his woes; to unburden his strain.
He lives with half filled stomach, sans, money.
At his work place with hard labour groans
He weeps in thunder, lightning sans light.
Under cruel fate’s burden he moans
To bear all grudges, sans future bright .
Life is meaningless for the wretched !
They lack sense and strength to fight or revolt
Multitudes suffer with them, parched.
None possesses a will to change or to bolt.
In hot summer, for cool breeze to blow,
Can they hope to gain strength and girth.
Does the rich see their life miserable ?
The fine silk, refined clothes, jewellery shorn,
Bereft of joy, thrill of beauty of gem.
For all luxuries, they sigh and yearn !
Perfumes, fragrance and scents shun them.
With loose tongue, uttering profanity,
Bad mannered, infamy infused like fire.
They are men of strife and impetuosity.
In the impoverished poor rustic—
What is common in them is not so, in the rich,
Is chill penury a gift to perish ?
Does sorrow hold them in its grip tragic ?
The pangs of sufferings, pathos and grief ;
Disease, filth, and squalor surround them.
The burning hearts, the bleeding hands.
The weary body, the creaking bones
The diseased cancerous lungs
In all seasons, they need to work,
From sunrise to the rising moon.
Only the sounds of the wailing sea,
Join them in their grievous sighs!
They are the rustling rustics,
Whose voice is suppressed to become mystics.
I dug and dug in parching deserts
Till I reached the streams below
I filled my bucket of love
With cool waters to quench my beloved’s thirst.
I cultivated dry and parching lands
Irrigated them with my sweat and tears
I picked the choicest fragrant roses
The sweetest fruits for my beloved to taste.
I wove and wove a finest cloth,