a
sea of heads
a procession of lives
converging on gates
like ants to an ant hill
the young, the old
blacks and whites
skirts and jeans
suits and costumes
hats and caps
backpacks and handbags
pushing, jostling,
rushing, hurrying,
worried looks
anxious looks
mobiles holding
talking while walking
at watches glancing
weaving and avoiding
a busker singing
walking, rushing
impatiently waiting
a rumble growing,
train approaching
to opening doors rushing
muscling their way in
some find seating,
others standing
with one arm clinging
book in other, reading
doors closing then jamming
doors reopening
"keep clear of closing doors"
struggle to keep away from doors,
doors close slamming
packed like sardines
lurching, groping
starts moving
speed keeps gathering
platform images blur
into dark tunnel enter
dazed unseeing looks
swaying, standing holding books
trying to talk over increasing din
ipods working, ear phones stuck in
staring at others wondering
a biscuit munching
sweaty smells, sniffing
coughing and sneezing
a child starts crying
"the next station is" announces
slowing down, screeches
blurred platform appearing
restless crowds standing
comes to a stop, doors opening
impatient to get out struggling
more people squeeze in
to exits streaming, pushing jostling
in escalator standing, hurrying
with ticket or card to exit converging
stream out then pausing
which direction to go checking
with even more people merging
catching up with time, grappling
for this new day unfolding
this is just the beginning
a procession of lives
converging on gates
like ants to an ant hill
the young, the old
blacks and whites
skirts and jeans
suits and costumes
hats and caps
backpacks and handbags
pushing, jostling,
rushing, hurrying,
worried looks
anxious looks
mobiles holding
talking while walking
at watches glancing
weaving and avoiding
a busker singing
walking, rushing
impatiently waiting
a rumble growing,
train approaching
to opening doors rushing
muscling their way in
some find seating,
others standing
with one arm clinging
book in other, reading
doors closing then jamming
doors reopening
"keep clear of closing doors"
struggle to keep away from doors,
doors close slamming
packed like sardines
lurching, groping
starts moving
speed keeps gathering
platform images blur
into dark tunnel enter
dazed unseeing looks
swaying, standing holding books
trying to talk over increasing din
ipods working, ear phones stuck in
staring at others wondering
a biscuit munching
sweaty smells, sniffing
coughing and sneezing
a child starts crying
"the next station is" announces
slowing down, screeches
blurred platform appearing
restless crowds standing
comes to a stop, doors opening
impatient to get out struggling
more people squeeze in
to exits streaming, pushing jostling
in escalator standing, hurrying
with ticket or card to exit converging
stream out then pausing
which direction to go checking
with even more people merging
catching up with time, grappling
for this new day unfolding
this is just the beginning
Speedy's poem took me back a few years, to my own experience of being one in the "crowd". The only difference is that Mangala and I deliberately avoided the rush hours because we were on holiday.
ReplyDeleteSpeedy has cleverly put down in rhyming lines, what we observed, leaving the rush hour crowd to our imagination.
How accurate, how vivid and how pulsating this is just like what one hears in or near the Underground! One can just imagine standing on the platform then getting in and standing somewhere practically in your imagination, in the rush hour! This is brilliant! Thanks a lot and give us more! This is from Zita a fellow traveller who just missed the last train!
ReplyDeleteThanks Zita! Good to see a response. I thought may be early hibernation has set in. I had one more response and it was from my good friend Sarath Perera (junior batch). I have posted it as Anonymous.
Delete"Hi. You are in a creative mood
ReplyDeleteExcellent
Sarath"
received from Sarath Perera
Just as it was even off peak many years ago when I was young and bold enough to travel on the underground with two little kids !
ReplyDeleteThe format of the verse reflects the ‘rush’ perfectly- well done and
Thank you Mahen.
Many thanks Rohini. I am glad you approve! Take care.
DeleteMahen, “approve”??
DeleteMore like I appreciate this fine composition.
Thank you Rohini. How about one from you now?
DeleteMahen, you are so good at seeing poetry in the mundane! You've captured the insanity of the daily commute so well. People surrounded by masses of humanity and still finding ways to isolate themselves. Homeland Security in the US has a slogan "See something, say something." I wonder, does anyone really see anything? Well done, Mahen!
ReplyDeleteThanks very much for your kind comments Srianee. I do find common situations we face in our lives good material for poetry. Have you written any? I have a feeling you have and why not share with us?
DeleteAs Srianee pointed out in her beautiful painting post a day ago, it is lovely to have feedback and thank you to all who posted comments.
ReplyDelete