Poetry of the day

  

  A Bombay Morning

 

Deep months

Of Monsoons in Bombay.

Raining since morning;

Grey lowering sky, grey inward sea, mists,

and a blurred city.

I sit watching a tall building

under construction, indifferent, proud

under the pelting rain.

There are many such nearby;

beachhead of a new lifeform,

already triumphant.

 

We converse, they tell me,

with abiding forces, earth`s bedrock,

unseen motions, limits to things;

we will be here when much is gone,

since we are the expression

of history`s main intent;

we are of the domain of immortality,

of reigning gods, titans, great kings:

and you are a fleck of passing existence,

a drying bird dropping

of foreign migrating flocks,

a low networth individual,

a substance not caught

by nets of history,

like a raindrop

Advertisements

About ctaposh

Cartoonist, poet, social activist, development banker, documentary filmmaker, reader of books and realities, ponderer of questions milling around.
This entry was posted in Monsoons, Mumbai, poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s