Art by Dithi Mukherjee

Farming my Blues Away

I am often left with:
a) countless drafts
b) filled ashtrays
c) low self-confidence
d) strained eyes

among other things
I try to write about you.

It used to be easy –
my pen would draw you
out of my memory,
make your impressions on the paper,
at which I would gaze –
a work well done;
a life well lived;
a love well loved –
what other joy was a man to ask for?

Now, the first month of this new year
has passed;
I have failed
the test of time.
The efforts to draw you
now rest in vain.

The blank paper sheets gather dust,
the ashtrays fill;
the eyebrows get cross –
but you never cross
my mind.

Do I need a lesson in imagery?
Or do you need to bestow your kindness
(which you owe to humankind)
upon me, yet again –

perhaps see me when the month ends,
for next comes the harvest season,
and I am ready to pluck a plentiful.


Art by Dithi Mukherjee

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