Thursday, 1 August 2013

Poetry 2013 Longlist, Yubaraj Gupta

The Heart of a Boy

A hundred degrees burning the scales,
Crowd in buses and rushes in rails.
Yet we ever smile and ploy
and call it the darling city of joy.
Strikes our anthem, hartal the song
Yet we are proud that we are the bong.
Some work hard to make ends meet
And some have never faced the heat.
Signal stops two vehicles in range.
A hand rickshaw and a Mercedes Benz.
This is a city of a blend alloy.
We call it the darling city of joy.
We see the trams in their snail's pace
No mood to fly, neither to race.
Some think it queer and some love them
But it's only ours, we are proud to claim.
Victoria memorial in so lovely a day,
An evening in forum, fun all the way.
Library and books are antics today.
The museum needs one for its own
To live yesterday.
Coffee house is still the same
But hairs are not grey,
Rowling, the young lads say
And not Mr Ray.
Feluda has lost his job and
Keeps out of fray,
Nor does the Bard write
When the white petals sway.
Yet within us they still do enjoy.
We call it the darling city of joy.
L.A has dollars, London has pounds,
We are proud of a rupee, however feeble it sounds.
Different Bills with their fathers on them,
That's all what uncle Sam has to claim.
But be it our ten's or a thousand's bill
One father stands for the nation's will.
Neither its New York nor its Troy
We call it the darling city of joy.
We don’t need a Big Ben to guide our day
Few alarm watches and manipulated they lay.
Always a quarter faster, what wise men do,
Still being late, we break the queue.
Time is what we value too late,
Leave it till dawn to meet our fate.
That is the way we live and ploy,
We call it the darling city of joy.
We are so happy the way we are,
Dreams afloat and raining desire.
We live like gypsies in song and rhyme,
Also fight hurdles to reach the vine.
We smile to death yet cry in pain.
That’s the way we are, a little insane.
It is a man with the heart of a boy.
We call it the darling city of joy.

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