The clothes inside my cupboard

I opened my cupboard

The clothes started dropping…

One by one….

Oh…do you die of breathlessness too?

Is it claustrophobic inside those wooden walls?

Pardon me…I treated you as if you were an object…

I forgot within every string of you…

Lay the sweat of the weaver…

Or the machine the demanded oil…

Or the sheep which did not want to be stripped…

Trust me…I can understand…

I listened to you…

I took you out…

I lay you out in the Sun!

I waited for you to breathe fresh air…

You needed it…didn’t you?

I knew you did…but halt…

I can’t let you breathe you so much of fresh air…

You’d be donning me…

But I don’t breathe fresh air…

Wait…enough…I’d put you all back inside…

You should not be allowed to breathe free air…

Reviews

[Surya pradha]

a poem about clothes? awesome! really different and well framed.

[Sami Khalil]

"Pardon me…I treated you as if you were an object…
I forgot within every string of you…
Lay the sweat of the weaver…
Or the machine the demanded oil…
Or the sheep which did not want to be stripped…"

[Sami Khalil]

I like it. I like the analogy where we lay our problems in the sun to breathe fresh air in necessity. I felt some apology, too... Excellent..:)..........