From a village stage

From a village stage

Broke the rapt silence

roared the village audience

listening to a poet of laughter

as their recreation, an annual feature.

The poet by his rhythm and metaphor

undermined the pride of a river

shattering at a well on its way to the ocean

as tiny in size, static at one station.

The poet rescued majestically the well

with his fantasy and rhythmic sweet spell

“Hey elder sister river! You nonstop run

exposing your cool contents to hot sun

never bothering as to who needs you or not

to get your water one has to walk a lot,

But the needy runs to me for their feed

for cool sweet water, ten feet rope is the need

you go from up to down, from a murmur to roar

often on your banks all you leave them in tear

from sweet to salty you turn your taste

no time to listen to a cuckoo, you are ever in haste.

As opposed to you, I come from down to up

sweet remains my water in its every drop.

listen to I the weal and woes of village belles

around me during their resting chatting spells.”

Touched my heart, unwavered by river well fight

the talent of a village poet and his earning limit.

The unknown is the poet on the poetic scale

but his logic tone teaching cast over me a spell.

whether the river is hurt or the well has won

for such bread earning poets my heart bows down.

P K Routray

in the service of Lord