home bound city evening

home bound city evening

A Poem by poddar kushal

Home bound city evening

 

The Anubis sits at the door.

Yonder, the spell of rising moon…

The city with sighing fogs…

Look back at it and feed the Anubis

          Another day of your life.

 

Open the window of your room.

Let the creeping pollens of death,

                                               The polluted airs come.

She does not lift her tired eyes

                                At the level of you.

Her hands presents warm foods

Those you junk down your body.

Fool’s paradise is sparking before your eyes.

Turn the channels.

 

Anubis sits at the door…

Moon mourns for being bound on a city sky.

You cannot turn to another life.

 

 

© 2008 poddar kushal


Author's Note

poddar kushal
# Anubis is the Egyptian god witha face of a jackal. a god of death.

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Featured Review

Oh wow ... structured like this ! this is amazing ... I like best " She does not lift her tired eyes
At the level of you.
Her hands present warm foods
Those you junk down your body.
Fool's paradise is sparking before your eyes.
Turn the channels." I want to mourn with the moon for how my city has become ...

Excellent work. Best wishes, Pammy.

Posted 16 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

Oh wow ... structured like this ! this is amazing ... I like best " She does not lift her tired eyes
At the level of you.
Her hands present warm foods
Those you junk down your body.
Fool's paradise is sparking before your eyes.
Turn the channels." I want to mourn with the moon for how my city has become ...

Excellent work. Best wishes, Pammy.

Posted 16 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.

Interesting work. I'm still trying to wrap my head around parts of it. This flowed well when read aloud.

Posted 16 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.


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Added on February 22, 2008
Last Updated on February 22, 2008

Author

poddar kushal
poddar kushal

kolkata, India, India



About
life and trying to earn bread made me an advocate. mad at my own stressful self, turned to writing. poems mainly. but, there are several short stories published in my mother toungue 'bengali'.i live i.. more..

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