Poems and Poetry

The Fountain | A Poem by P.K. Deb

Naturally, the colossal mountain was icy and rocky —
stood beside the slum of the half-fed and half-naked in a desert,
the prayer and the importunity of their hunger and thirst
reverberated in the open air and the sky of infinity,
vibrated even the hard heart of the icy-mountain and at last
succeeded to melt it down to a little fountain for them.

A responsibility geared the fountain to flow down
with water and wealth for the ever-thirsty and hungry
who fidgeted and wept lying on the foot of the mountain,
hence, with a sympathetic fuel it rushed down to the desert.

Still, it sang, made the rock to clap and the fishes to dance,
continued its well destined, brakeless and nap-less journey
till it reached the desert of hunger and thirst of the indigents
and watched their dry faces who ran towards it tumultuously
to immerse their curse of suffering in the water of the fountain.

Alas, suddenly the fountain was surrounded by the pillagers —
the sun, wind, rocks, sands, trees and other suckers
who plunged in to the fountain and snatched the wealth first
and at last, soaked and sucked the water to its last drop
in front of the thirsty and hungry who could not save the fountain
which was a gift to them and only for them to explore and enjoy.


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