Finally got my just dues! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Heaving a sigh
Of great relief;
With reverence
I tied my manuscript
And wistfully
Smiled to myself.
Took it to a publisher,
Who had promised,
He will have a look.
As I knocked,
He peered, eyebrows raised
From his glasses resting
On his nose.
Cast a cursory
Glance, Hm… poetry,
This won’t sell.
I gaped
Incredulously,
And asked with
Temerity,
Pray, why not?
Don’t know,
But it’s out of vogue.
Then why don’t
You just close shop,
I said outraged.
Why, do you know
Writer’s like Chetan Bhagat
Keep me afloat.
He too has quit
His lucrative job
At multinational bank,
Writing can pay,
If you write, what sells.
On my insistence,
He condescendingly
Gave in.
Ok, if you insist
Let’s go ahead;
One condition,
You take them all away
And you pay.
Seeing my work in print,
Tears rolled down my chin.
My childhood friend,
[...] Read more
poem by Mamta Agarwal
Added by Poetry Lover
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