Poetry – Suchismita Ghoshal

The World Today

The world today is a mixed chaos
of nothingness,
a massacre of mismanagement
and a dismantled bowl of foul feelings.
Whatever comes first in my mind
with the word “World” is
someone serving me a plate of broken poetry
and I need to fix it as soon as possible.
Poetry tastes bitter now as the nectar of literature
gets sucked by a horde of blasphemous creatures.
A sudden storm or a sudden thunderbolt in an ocean
perfectly goes with the world today
as anything here rises, spreads like an epidemic
and then goes into an immediate ventilation
in a blink of eyes!
A lot of scattered things hovering around,
Nobody even cares to look after it.
Raindrops trickle down, already reaching
to my shoulder , but fails to catch my concerns;
the world today is something like that.
The world today is slowly sinking deep to a sea
but each and every human, busy fixing
their tunes to their rhythms
as the guitar named ‘life’ shouldn’t get its strings broken!
The monsoon comes in a wrong time
and apologizes to the spring as it destroyed its charm.
Don’t tell me nature sweeps brutally seldom
when the people are trampled like ants innumerably
as a decisive result of karma;
it cleans like an angry mother, exhausted
after throwing repetitive calls for home’s cleanliness
towards the sluggish family members.
Unfinished novel, rotting in the dusty bookshelves,
and you have an acute dust allergy,
so you refrain yourself from reading.
And I exactly have a feel
that our world is the exact novel,
betrayed by the dust allergy or maybe by the sufferer!
The lungs of the world got hurt, burnt and dried,
the canines cried out of excessive pain,
we jumped from one channel to another channel
faking “it’s pathetic”, writing poems as a show-off
and then slept relishing a chicken leg piece.
The world itself once kept faith on faith,
but faith turned into a chapbook of pictures,
quite like ‘Flip pages and get finished’
and vanishes browning its deeds,
now the wrenches in the world’s hearts
are an open gate of ‘entrance and exit’.
A group of meditators, a morning sky,
a wholesome nature,
a new sunlight, a new hope,
a ‘everything new’ mania
are definitely undeniable
in the language of poetry
to compose everything peacefully
even if it seems a sarcastic ‘eye-wash’ to the world today!