I long for

 

I long for

 

I long for

from my heart’s core

my days,  seven decades past

when its spell, the modernity had not cast

the dawn, dusk day, and night

now robbed of their beauty to sight

the serenity is lost to maddening sound

frowning light and noise pollution around

Cock-a-doodle-doo of a rooster

caws of crows chirping birds flutter

breaking our sleep deep and sound

reminding us that we are duty-bound

“ Dawn is turning to a day

keep your idleness at bay.”

when a cool breeze deepens the sleep

today for which even with sleeping pills we weep

 

I long for

from my heart's core

the school I went

the days  then and there I spent

to the school that daily I brought

from mat slate chalk to inkpot

from palm leaves, mats were woven

bags weaved at home we carried on

Shouting in chorus with the teacher on the blackboard

the live sweet vibration in me still is stored.

The games on the soil in mango groves around

in me vibrate from foliage with cuckoo’s sound

Now I see my grandkid with a donkey load

walking back bent with a risky run on a crowded road.

 

I long for

from my heart’s core

my childhood ablutions from rise to sleep

brushing teeth to bath in the river deep

A stick from a tree

made my teeth disease-free

The flowing water with fish little

clean my body from skull to ankle

My play with fish and water in the river

I cherish ever  with the river’s murmur

I long for

from my heart’s core

the muddy house with a thatched roof

enjoying the plight of rain as it was not waterproof

 

I long for

from my heart’s core

evenings with a little illumination

then as a child it was fear and fun

howling of beasts, the darkness around

flickering lights from the cremation ground

Grandma’s saree corner

was the safest place to hide a place of wonder

her evening tales still I remember

on birds beasts fairies and monster

Now evenings with the maddening sound

pungent illumination, smoke around

Now feel I the absence of evening bird’s flight

soothing setting sun cool moonlight

despite the darkness around the howling of beasts

stars on the sky captivating artists.

calm serene atmosphere Grandma’s lap

wail I for that after seventy years gap.

now darkness is looted by electricity

with howling of beasts, fluttering birds is a rarity.

Limitless it will run

to delineate then, the frolic and fun

that I long for

from my heart’s core

my days seven decades past

as my fun of living did not last

in the teeth of advanced civilization

when a man faces altercation and starvation..

 

P K Routray

in the service of the Lord