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. 


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

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

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

    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 :)

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

    1. Hi Hilary,

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