1st Attempt at Free Verse, July 2001

The sun peeps from the horizon
of the concrete jungle
Drawing, artistically, a pattern of shadows
riddled with geometric gaps
that absorb light

Activity in the city touches full swing
Four wheeled machines, scooters ply on the streets
Stopping religiously at the tricoloured signal posts

Starts the filthy wet discharge
through dark black lips
unsoft and poisonous
holding cigarettes

Jetting onwards before the signal says go
Enough is enough, can’t wait longer, no
Speeding away as if with purpose
only to screech their brakes
at the next junction

A tragedy, A Mishap, thats what’s happened
A body crushed underneath a monstrous truck
Public swarming, questions galore
each investigating, serving inputs

“What the hell is the problem?”
an executive wonders
sitting in his car, giving a damn for such blunders
Honking the horn, as if sound waves may move traffic
looking earnestly, turning his neck, searching
for space, a route of escape
t’ give the mob a slip

Someone lost a life,
Somebody a family member
“My project I must submit,
as far as I can remember”