Streets by Hari Das - HTML preview

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Nandini

 

 

My name is Nandini

I sell pens in the traffic signal

When the signal gets orange

I sell pens long and elastic pens

I move door after door

Carrying bunches of pen

I knock on the door

Five a pen for ten three pens But no one buys

They tell we have a pen

Small and fountain pen

I don't know how to write

How to read

But i know how to sell these pens

Someone buy someone buy

Five a pen for ten three pens

Child in door shining pen

Mamma I need I need this pen

Long and elastic pen

How much for a pen?

My age is five

Five a pen for ten three pens

One I sold

Still left in fold

Someone buy someone buy

Five a pen for ten three pens

Bunches of pen i carry

With each dip of the sun

When the foot paths belong to rich

In between the short skirts white lady's

In between the family's holding small babies

I carry pens bunches of pen

Long and elastic pens

Sometimes

Waving hands discard me

Go away with your pen long and elastic pens

We don't need your pen

Your dirty pen

Pen

But i have to raise my hands

From the evening till dark

Because the morning is not going to gift me

A school to use this pen

So I only know to sell these pens

Someone buy some one buy

Five a pen for ten three pens

My name is Nandini

I sell pens in the traffic signal

When the signal gets orange

I sell pens long and elastic pens

Poetry is music a rhythm so read it lovely and smoothly

 

Hari Das