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July 17, 2007 at 3:39 pm 7 comments

Our small home, its tidy roof,
surrounded by wild growth of shrubs.
Our small winding lanes
leading us into dank and slippery confines.
Our small white clouds in the bright blue sky.
Underneath mutilated rotten bodies lie.
Our wide eyes stare at them as their
dead sight mocks at life passing by.

Bewilderment meets the obvious future.
Innocence loses itself amidst putrid lure.

Our small songs never leave our mind,
and in their tunes we forgetfully grind
our small sighs — they lash like a curse.
And hence we pen down this painful verse.

Our small hearts, they forget to cry.
Our tears, our smiles, ourselves — all dry!

© Ritwik Banerjee


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Entry filed under: art, literature, Poetry.

Ode to the Burnt Finger To a tear drop

7 Comments Add your own

  • 1. stratos  |  July 17, 2007 at 4:11 pm

    tricky thing this sentimentalism, full of traps…nevertheless you managed it well.
    you see, simple is difficult.

    Reply: I was not aiming at sentimentalism. I wanted to depict our world in its present state, and hence the name Home. Thank you for dropping by, however. And I certainly agree that simple is difficult!
    Ritwik

    Reply
  • 2. Shyma  |  July 18, 2007 at 2:37 am

    Can sure identify with the “our” scenario in todays life.

    Reply: I am not sure what you meant by that Shyma. Let me hear what your interpretation is, and then I will divulge my original intentions for using “our” . . . . otherwise, the readers thoughts are bound to get influenced by the poet’s.
    Ritwik

    Reply
  • 3. harmonie22  |  July 18, 2007 at 3:46 am

    I love it, has a haunting undertone.

    You capture the contrast between the beauty in nature and the human condition quite well.

    I agree though sometimes the poet should explain (a little) when needed but part of the beauty of poetry is the diverse explanations from our imaginations.

    Reply: I am glad you liked it. The contrast was a conscious effort and I appreciate that you enjoyed the effect. More than the human condition, I was trying to bring out the inveitability of death and destruction. In the process, I also ended up incorporating a gradual degeneration. The stoic nature that I end the poem with, is that gradual loss of beauty, which, I believe, is intricately related to death (without venturing into the metaphysical plane).
    Ritwik

    Reply
  • 4. enreal  |  July 18, 2007 at 4:34 am

    Everything is “small”, is it life that is large and are you and I the same? Are we fools in life, or lifes’ fools? I believe in your words…
    I wonder, do you believe in an obvious future or an obvious failure? Is it the same or is poeticism?

    Reply: I am not sure whether I understand your question correctly and/or totally. But let me write down what I think is the answer to your point: I used the word small for two reasons. Firstly, to paint a quaint picture of a residence, and secondly, to present a picture of the limitations. I was not comparing individuals with life at all. This poem was written mainly in order to juxtapose insensitivity and cruelty with the beauty of our world. That’s why the tidy roof is surrounded by a wild growth of shrubs. I hope this clears the purpose of this poem to some extent, even if it doesn’t answer the point raised by you.
    Ritwik

    Reply
  • 5. Shyma  |  July 18, 2007 at 5:26 am

    “Our” as in every person living life indifferent to so many things happening around in the larger perspective. Correct me if I am wrong but you did bring about a straight forward distinction between the sides in these lines:

    “Our small white clouds in the bright blue sky.
    Underneath mutilated rotten bodies lie.
    Our wide eyes stare at them
    as their deathcast vision laughs at the life passing by.

    Bewilderment meets the obvious future.
    Innocence loses itself amidst putrid lure.”

    Reply: “Our” as in every person living life indifferent to so many things happening around in the larger perspective. Yes, yes. I did use it in this very simple meaning. I was afraid that the poem might get “over-interpreted”! Thank you for the attention you give to my poems. It really means a lot to me.
    Ritwik

    Reply
  • 6. Shyma  |  July 19, 2007 at 2:48 am

    Now now Ritwik…only a critic would worry about his poems being “over interpreted”!!!!!! Words convey just what they are meant to convey unless we complicate their meaning ourselves. 🙂

    Reply: Well, I was rather afraid that my critical readers were turning into critics, not readers. That is a fear faced by any author. Don’t you think so?
    Ritwik

    Reply
  • 7. Shyma  |  July 19, 2007 at 9:30 am

    I can only speak for myself Ritwik, I read others words and take them at face value. Sometimes I find a few words I identify with and take them home, othertimes I enjoy the play of words and marvel at their beauty. Dissceting someones writing kills the joy or pure reading. Like I said earlier…its all simple until we complicate it ourselves. 🙂

    Reply

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