She short poem

Photo by Instant Vantage

Facing the wrath of the blazing Sun,
She, with her tangled hair, toothy smile, deeply lined face ;
in a coarse cotton and battered bag,
walks through the lofty gates of a mansion ;
A fine blend of art, wealth and grandeur.

With agility and honesty,
She serves the Lady,
sharing sometimes her joys,
but many a time her woes,
her struggles, in the war of 1971;
leaving behind her riches,
crossing over from known to unknown,
in search of a stable home.

Everyday, from afar the Lady looks;
immersed She in her own world,
creating tales on a shiny poplin,
with figures of different hues and views,
tending, at times, the unwanted creepers,
running, every time, to look after
her frail, old mother.

Then, there was a day ,
tears trickling down the face,
wetted the unfamiliar elephant,
on a piece of grey;
the Lady prodded,
felt her pain and
gifted her a pair of specs.

One bright morning, She
tip-toed towards the Lady,
with a colorful embroidery,
laced with love and gratitude,
but the Lady knew,
the gesture : a reflection
of her pride, self-respect
and her true identity.

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Debabani Chandra

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positive,practical,kindhearted, romantic, movie buff
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5 Comments on "She"

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A beautiful beautiful poem, exploring many feelings


Yes I felt that but sometimes I get the authors meaning wrong and I am left with red face.
I do not think myself you could write with such meanings without the experince to the
situation. mmmmm some poets can though.

asoke kumar mitra

beautiful write. a lovely short story through poetry.



She long poem

She Keeps a Love to Nurture her Immature And a Vigor to Sacrifice the Fruits of Nature Her Dreams are Curtained Behind the Window Panes And Chained into Darkness with Teary Stains Her Audacity of Giving Birth to our Family

The Sea Soaked She And The Sun

The Sea Soaked She And The Sun ode

Away from the crowd She whispered her tale. To the cresting waves, To the frothy foam, To the flying seagulls, They knew her soul. They were waiting for her To wash her heart. She left the remains, She was carrying

Just A Myth Until She Became Reality

Just A Myth Until She Became Reality prose poem

She’s loved by many but walks alone. It’s not because she has no one to comfort her, or that she isolates herself from those surrounding her, but it’s because she’s all the strength and comfort she needs. While others find

She’s Kinda Beautiful

Shes Kinda Beautiful ode

They’ve got their arms up in in the air while she is tossing her her coloured hair If you’re going put in her a chair then she’s somewhat debonair But come stage time and she’s jiving from stair to stair

She Matters

She Matters long poem

the way you walk the way you talk the way you comb your hair beautiful eyes as if a angel in disguise the touch of your hand makes me understand pitter patter of soft sandle feet whispers in the corridor