FOUR CORNERS

FOUR CORNERS

Four corners I have

In one are buried my ancestors.

 

In the next

There sleeps a cooking pot.

 

Over the third

thatched roof has a hole through

that rain and sun peep,

There is also a plastic flower,

brought from fair

ages ago, now

Sullied with soot.

 

And in the  darkest

There is a cot, lousy

Worm-infested,

And when when we sit

It creaks.

Sharing is caring!

Abu Siddik

It's all about the unsung , nameless men and women around us. I try to portray them through my tales. I praise their undying suffering and immaculate beauty. And their resilience to life's vicissitudes, oddities, and crudities I admire. They are my soulmates who inspire me to look beyond the visible, the known, the common facade of the educated and the intellectuals.

Leave a Reply

So glad to see you sticking around!

Want to be the first one to receive the new stuff?

Enter your email address below and we'll send you the goodies straight to your inbox.

Thank You For Subscribing

This means the world to us!

Spamming is not included! Pinky promise.