The Phoenix
Working against heavy odds
A little hovel, he did build
In a verdant stretch of fertile land
Off the noisy, frenzied crowd
With sheaves of hay, he thatched its roof
With reed and bamboo, its walls were made
With mud and charcoal, its floor was glazed
With wooden planks, its entrance laid.
At dusk, when birds to their nests depart
And beasts, to their covert burrows and dens
After the days toil, weary and weak
He curls into the cozy comfort of his home
Through months and years, it gave him succour
Sheltered him from storm and rain
Made him differ from the gypsy tribe
Lent him a footing in this populous world
He wove around it many a dream
With frugal care, his needs he met
Like a squirrel stocking nuts and grains
In it's secret granary for the rainy days
He saved all that he had earned
For a life to be lived later in bliss
But alas!
His haven lies so derelict
Its very foundation raced to the ground
The once beautiful stretch of land
Robbed of its greenery and grace!
The eviction squad usurped his land
Hurling him down to the streets!
Bewildered, failing to budge an inch
Like a boat, midway stranded in sea,
He stood.
But his resilient spirits, to him affirmed
‘Never defeated, though destroyed'
Soon the mud hovel, to a palatial mansion turned
Where he envisioned himself king of the land
His smiling progeny picking fruits from his orchard
And his cattle chewing cud in the shade of trees.
Why scoff it as the fancy of a fevered mind?
Oh! But to dream is every man's right.
poem by Valsa George
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
