Tuesday, 7 October 2014

Morning commute





Early dawn drizzle’s polished the pavement
to a high-gloss silver mist this side of blurred;
blinking lights, polished shoes, and pointed end
dark umbrellas fast tap-tap office-ward.
A plane flies overhead, unseen but heard.



The age-old face of time peeps from the tower
the rain’s handed a mirror to old dials
as a puddle smoothens its ripples, the hour
is struck off in bells and an absence of smiles.
A street vendor pulls pretzels into piles.



Each one must travel in his own orbit
in a random bubble of time and space
no hand touches the other inches from it
no eye-contact with another face
each one knows its path and its place,



walks into the lift, maintains a tidy queue
whooshes up and down and no rules broken;
in time a feathered cap or an ocean view
not much eggshell and omelettes are spoken
just that there must be enough silver slogans.





I came across an image of a clock tower reflected in a large puddle on a road, and rather grim faced be-umbrellaed commuters hurrying past it. This was the outcome. 








8 comments:

  1. Oh my, spot on! I love "office-ward" and the generally imprisoned feeling that blossoms throughout the poem.

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    Replies
    1. Trapped in bubbles of our own making! thanks for being here..

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  2. Each one must travel in his own orbit
    in a random bubble of time and space
    Well written...loved your rhyme :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. साथ किसका कौन देता है यहाँ ?
      काम किसके कौन आता है कहाँ ?
      भीड़ को साथी समझना भूल है ,
      जब सहा जिसने अकेले ही सहा।

      ~ हरिवंश राय बच्चन

      Glad you liked mine, thanks :)

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  3. Hi Nila .. the morning commute and time disappearing with the raindrops washing the street ... how true .. cheers Hilary

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    Replies
    1. Hi Hilary,

      Commutes are so easily overlooked and time allowed to slip unutilised...

      Delete

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