THE WORKING PEOPLE

Status: Finished

THE WORKING PEOPLE

Status: Finished

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THE WORKING PEOPLE

Poem by: Shweta

Genre: Poetry

Houses:

Poem by: Shweta

Details

Genre: Poetry

Houses:

Summary

THis is a tribute to all factory working people...their hard work is commendable and suffering is just what needs condolece

Summary

THis is a tribute to all factory working people...their hard work is commendable and suffering is just what needs condolece

Content

Submitted: June 14, 2010

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Content

Submitted: June 14, 2010

A A A

A A A


The Working People

*****

Curse the people, who say,

Change is the only constant, don’t fray.

******

Life’s been always the same,

It’s not interesting like a chess game.

***

Dulled with monotonous day,

With little time to lay.

*****

Days devoured by the factory,

Lives shackled by the machinery.

******

Advancing one more step to the grave,

Shorting the days of their lives as slaves.

*****

Wrangling with themselves as they work,

Every bit of accumulated energy being sucked.

****

No innovative ideas ever streamed through their minds,

Only occupied by the heavy hum as that of trains.

*********

Life’s been always like that,

Grimy, greasy, stinky and matt.

******

Only delight on which life delicately sustained,

Was the evening when supper and rest awaited.

*****

Sinking eyes once again glittered,

Oil-smeared faces lit and glistened.

******

Respectable married ones longed for their family,

Privileged bachelors resorted to ale anxiously.

********

Their tired bodies go into deep slumber,

Dead still not even daring to lumber.

********

Feeling of complacency killing all life-long desire,

Awaiting eagerly to be kindled by any angel of fire.

******

Romancing through the slippery night,

Just to wake up and start another day’s fight.

********

Eyes protruding and bodies crumpled,

Faces grimaced and hair rumpled.

******

Scuttling out of their little grey houses,

Like a hoard of frightened cockroaches.

************

Basking in the crisp and dusty air of dawn,

Huddling towards the factory out of the town.

**********

Lives sacrificed in serving the so- called privileged people,

With certain solicitude, officialdoms call them: THE WORKING PEOPLE.


© Copyright 2016 Shweta. All rights reserved.

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