Thursday, December 21, 2006


this is a scribe i can trace back to my first year of college.....

He looks at the food on the table,
not his, but of someone else,
seems so tempting, so filling for sure,
but its EXPENSIVE to him the menu tells.
Expensive it is, by 10 rupees whole...
it surely can't be his today,
"have your tea and biscuits now",
he can hear his mind to him say. 
He sits alone, tired and pale,
empty pockets and stomach too,
his eyes close with the hunger,
as his dreams run askew. 
"i got to reach home", he remembers,
shall have to walk all the way;
has no money for the bus fare
and home's far far away. 
A tear wells up his contoured eyes,
heavy with hopes for better days,
he wipes off the tear, every single trace,
but the hope and the hunger in there still stays. 
He still keeps hope for better days,
as he burns his wounds and walks his ways....
as he burns his wounds and walks his ways.

-Pushkaraj Shirke


  1. oyeee.. cool way.. i liked the flavour of the words.. infact the ground u touched with this poem is too good..




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