The Poor King

----------------------------------------------------

It's a feeling to resume the blog, an activity that had to be left on the back burner to accommodate other chores. I've seen my scores sliding drastically and alerts from indiblogger.in pouring into my inbox, but I was undone. My next book was to be pushed ahead in the drafting phase and I'm glad that it has nearly reached its finishing line. So it's time to show up in the blogosphere, read contents, browse and browse.

----------------------------------------------------

THE POOR KING

=============

Ventured the farthest possible

For its tiny feather

Into the sky, away from the shore

In quest of day's grub,

The poor Kingfisher.

Its luck had it this way,

Returned it to the dried branch

Of the lonely mangrove, its serai of hope

At the end of the day,

Empty-handed.

The tired Kingfisher

Sat pensive, brooding over his miss

A hero with a setback, all its guts scrambled

To hazard another bid,

Before the nightfall.

While lamenting the catch

That escaped from its grip

The evening star in the sky, began to wink

Parodying its saga heroic,

It was time to give up.

At a distant corner

Lay a corpse of a tiny fish

The fisherman's leftovers, for a sordid scavenger

Sparkled invitingly

Before the hungry Kingfisher.

To gulp or not to

The dead fish?

The rotten fish? And without catching it?

It was not a regal way to consider

For its excellency-the Kingfisher.

''The king can do no wrong''

He can't even sing a song

In the public, for his mental peace

He is a beast of burden

Voluntary and honorary.

Born to bear the dead weight

With no grumble nor protest

The vestige of the past, the tyranny of present

He should carry on and on unfed

Like my lovely, hungry Kingfisher.

FIRST COMPOSED – DECEMBER 07, I995

By

A. N. Nanda

30-04-2010

Bhubaneswar

=========================================