father, a salesmanA Poem by poddar kushalFather, a salesman(the inspiration of this poem came from the first line from"Karl C Klein’s Unnatural Girl"whose stories published at www.karlcklein.gather.com and www.writerscafe.org/writers/karlklein/ should be read by serious readers) : My father was a salesman. That was all and that was all. Memory did not recall The commodities he sold. The houses of his visits, The shops or the offices. A little pack of blue and Obsolete face-crème once found In an ancient attic… “Had it been in his torn bag?” Fingers wanted to trace his Print of past long dead and gray. The summer roads and shut doors The watching bird with lazy Wings folded together, Oh sun, was it a journey He had taken many times? Only at night beside a Wild and black mare he appeared. “What were you?” asked a boy, me! “Go and inquire your deep dream”, Told the dying out image. I know he was a salesman!
© 2008 poddar kushalFeatured Review
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22 Reviews Added on March 5, 2008 Last Updated on March 5, 2008 Authorpoddar kushalkolkata, India, IndiaAboutlife and trying to earn bread made me an advocate. mad at my own stressful self, turned to writing. poems mainly. but, there are several short stories published in my mother toungue 'bengali'.i live i.. more..Writing
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