Parched, forlorn streets gazed with trepidation,
Burnt earth cried dry tears of pain,
Climbing devil’s ivy drooped, scorched, singed,
Bereaved, heads looked up in vain.
And then as monsoon showers fell
On an artist’s canvas, swirled mix of colors ran,
And his painting washed away like sad tears in the rain,
Happily, he looked up and prayed
Hands folded, gratitude writ on the face,
Hopeful, a masterpiece anew he thought he could make,
Now that his slate was clear
No sad clouds to fog his way.
The waft of marigolds n’ jasmines, Merged with the earthy petrichor,
Touched a chord and a ditty played,
Street urchins sailed in paper boats,
Their muddy puddles no less than giant waves.
An orchestra on the pavement played,
Drenched in showers unmindful, a symphony built,
Angels snooped down wondering where the ballad played.
Burnt earth cried dry tears of pain,
Climbing devil’s ivy drooped, scorched, singed,
Bereaved, heads looked up in vain.
And then as monsoon showers fell
On an artist’s canvas, swirled mix of colors ran,
And his painting washed away like sad tears in the rain,
Happily, he looked up and prayed
Hands folded, gratitude writ on the face,
Hopeful, a masterpiece anew he thought he could make,
Now that his slate was clear
No sad clouds to fog his way.
The waft of marigolds n’ jasmines, Merged with the earthy petrichor,
Touched a chord and a ditty played,
Street urchins sailed in paper boats,
Their muddy puddles no less than giant waves.
An orchestra on the pavement played,
Drenched in showers unmindful, a symphony built,
Angels snooped down wondering where the ballad played.
Guncha Gupta has made a word painting in the poem.She has described beautifully how the monsoon showers fill everyone and everything with a new life in India.It is a beautiful piece of work.
Carefree childhood days relived. Beautifully expressed
Another beautiful poem