Sunday Poetry Special By Sanjana Srivastava

Oxymoronic Poets

On my way to Phuket, Pressing pen and paper inside my pocket, With a plan of composing verses, For the esteemed Westmorland Gazette, I realized, Poetry is a privilege.

I am quite well heeled, With passable grey-matter and wit, Also, an international university degree, And an almost complete PhD thesis. I went for a vacation to relax in the Freedom Beach. And as schedule permitted, I also flew to Maldives.

I sat at the beaches, With a pen and pages, Scribbled a few words, Probably a drabbel, Or some intellectual jabber gibber gabble.

A wretched man of the wretched earth Inebriates himself way too much, Before plunging into a sewage drain, To fix and clean it up. He drinks syrupy waste, excreta and sludge. He swallows cloggy plastic, parasite and phosphorus. While returning home after a long day of work, He quavers, trembles, wobbles. He splutters love, life, lust. He jabbers gibber gabble.

My poetry is a privilege. His poetry, a tough break. My poetry is a recreation. His poetry, an indisposition.

Admin