A Rose-seller Girl

As the windows rolled down,
there beamed a rusty girl,
With hair braided in filths of Time,
selling roses in innocent swirl.


To every window sprinted the girl,
with the lights turned colour red,

dishing roses red and bright,
a life in grey and piteous sight.


Dusty dins were the jewels she wore,
hatred-spites the little mermaid bore-
from the snobs and honoured Human folks
Clogged at traffic and worries to the core.


A bangled hand cursed with roses,
A frock in green torn in places,
feet burned by sun's wrath on road,
and soul briused by cursive disgraces.

Indrajit Ghosal
Copyright(c)2007indrajitghosal

13 Sonatas:

    touchin

    i liked the flow and the words used
    beautiful:)

     

    Indrajit!
    This is an poignant portrait you made here. Great, moving poem!

    Cheers
    JP

     

    beautiful!!!!!

    really touching..... lovely poem....

     

    Words been beautifully threaded to a poem ..!!
    Lovely ..!!

     

    loved the line.."With hair braided in filths of Time"..

    beautiful composition!

     

    poignant and touching as usual

     

    This line moved me...
    "A bangled hand cursed with roses"
    You have a wonderful heart to perceive the nature of things from a humanitarian perspective...
    waiting to read more!!!

     

    I see signs of evolution... a new style... very good theme.. greatly expressed

     

    i just like de way you write...ur thoughts are deep..

     

    Very nice poem.. I particularly liked the contrast between red and grey in life...

    Thanks for stopping by my blog again and ur comments :)

     

    Very finely written n a novel theme for me... this first poem is tempting me to go through the other poems too, ye I must go thru... I'll be voicing as soon as I grasp the next dose :)

     

    ...a painting: a girl ... iven I sow her... living a grey life ,between colored roses..Affluence of epithets ....Nice done!

     

    nothing to say indro...its one of ur masterpieces.
    esp thz lines:
    A bangled hand cursed with roses,
    A frock in green torn in places,
    feet burned by sun's wrath on road,
    and soul briused by cursive disgraces.

     

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