My postbox

My postbox short poem

I’m hooked to this rusted gate

and in a corner,

That’s me –


and just choking,

from slit ventilation

and you just ignore.

I hold your responses

and stack all that comes,

That’s me –


and just waiting,

for you to notice

and you just ignore.

I’m bored with my looks

and need a makeover,

That’s me –


and just smelling,

of all the dampness

and you just ignore.

I snoop the open ones

and shhhhh, shhhhh!!!!,

That’s me –


and just keeping,

all those secrets

and you just ignore.

I hate that pizza boy

who delivers the next door,

That’s me –


and just stuffing,

all those offers

and you just ignore.

I neither have an umbrella

nor a raincoat,

That’s me –


and just rusting,

from almost everything

and you just ignore.

I like a red coat

and I know its a cliché,

That’s me –


and just pleading,

for a ‘postbox’ look

and you just ignore.

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2 Comments on "My postbox"

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Interesting and imaginative bit of writing @Abhi_Jain and such subtle humor as also pathos assigned to an inanimate object..Not easy but well done!


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