Mean(the)while…

Today someone may present his resignation to enjoy his life fullest.

Some lady today may stand up against the oppression against her.

Some loving couple might flee to enjoy their life together from now.

There might be rain in the evening, but, the morning clouded sunny

The noon should be like this like a trailer for some upcoming Summer movie.

 

Now at this moment words piggybacking on thoughts in search of a poem.

At this moment, down the street, the stray dogs are playing around.

The street is busy now; this is the rush hour for office and schools.

Somewhere at the mean the while, in southern Bangladesh, my neighbor,

There’re children fighting for their laughter;

Surviving by fighting suppressing their tender age

Somewhere, in some place of Syria, a mother is ruminating on her child’s loss

(And) at mean the while somewhere in the footpath of Kolkata a mother ruminating

On her child’s meal; boiling in the blacked sooted haari the fat blacked rice minced with

dust; her child, if  more than one year old, playing nearby in the dust or picking up the

rags and wastage or washing the plates or waiting the table or apprenticing the local tea-

shoppers or performing as the beggar, hungry and desolate ones. Mean the while

vehicles passing away carrying me, us, dream hunters.

 

Today some may find his or her love; it may be momentary or it may be for the life.

At the mean the while a blind beggar will ask for alms; a drug addict will burn

On some foil adhesive; a police will ask for the bribe to release an innocent.

At the mean the while, somewhere a teen out of desperation will take up the gun

From the black market to release the anguish against the society, against the time

Against the negligence showered on him (or it is also a she).

At the mean the while, anywhere, in my neighbor, beyond it a plan will get hatched

To plant attacks to reinstall the fear guise in the sugar coating of this is faith..this is

religion…this is the sole duty of the birth…

 

At the clock ticks the tock, moments gathered to form moment there are always

Some prefixed to thing, one, where.

One ends, another starts.

Another ends, one starts.


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National Poem Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) 2018: Day#10: Write a poem of simultaneity

 

By Sangbad

A poet, an author, a reviewer--in one word I'm a literaturist (means one who is trying almost everything that Literature is made of). My books are available at Amazon. I'm a Bengali, born and raised in Kolkata, West Bengal.

20 comments

  1. Many stories of different genre are beginning,
    In this moment,
    Many are changing for good or bad,
    In the meantime.
    Many are living the same story,
    Day in, day out,
    Maybe silently, maybe complaining,
    In the meanwhile.
    Many stories are bending,
    To never be same again.
    Many are ending,
    Or wishing to end,
    While only few have gratitude,
    To appreciate the colour,
    Of grass on their side,
    Without wishing it to be greener,
    Like the otherside.
    In the meantime,
    I sit down and pen down,
    Whatever might be happening,
    In the meantime.
    Whatever will never stay the same,
    When this poem ends,
    And I look up at the sky,
    And wonder what’s happening,
    In the meanwhile.

    Like

            1. Maybe but I am pretty personal on insta and keep people to minimum 😊
              I am more of a private person that likes keeping things to self

              Like

            2. That’s the way to be but unlike others I don’t have an account for blog alone. What happens on WordPress stays in WordPress alone…Lol
              No shout out on social networking platforms ☺

              Like

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