Posted in poems

City Of Paupers


An Indian one rupee coin is seen in this picture illustration taken in Mumbai

You name it ‘the city of dreams’, I m alien to this city

Such an enigmatic crowd, paupers full of versatility

 This isn’t an account on beggars, I m not here to preach

Just amazed how varied ways of begging are adopted by each

 Some pinch their infants and make those innocent souls weep

Some victim to physical violence, those wounds so deep

 With messed up hair, gloomy look and a torn soiled sari

She would skillfully mint money from every new Ferrari

 Some charming kids dancing on the beats of hit Bollywood numbers

Some play instruments listening to which every mind slumbers

Some holy angels shower their blessings on you

Some question your humanity, humans are left so few

And paupers like you and me, fall prey to their plead

Lending just a rupee, to our poverty that won’t lead

 With these poor sentiments, we paupers are born

A rupee leads to another and the show goes on…

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Author:

A wacky thinker, may be cross-wired in head but true to the richness of learning and writing. Like most writers, I believe in writing on a whim to express my emotions. In love with music, art of writing and chicken. I regret not traveling and exploring a lot. That's what I look forward to.

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