In remembering ,it was locusts of then
A child loved to bring down one by one

From their Siberian existences, as they
Would chew the Siberia leaves together.

A child has no idea of all time memory
Nor of a collective conscious nor myth.

But now the child is a big fat old man
Bigger than man and becomes a part

Of everyone’s memory for small time
Before ,like locust he is brought down

Bit by bit , then ceases to be anybody
Except Bible locust for Sunday church.

Big fat old man waits to be the locust
What his child brought down in bush

A mere yellow leaf of a remembering
In garden floor waits to turn compost.

Waves of  locusts  used to raid village crops in our childhood .Children loved  it as a sport to bring them down   one by one)


About nisheedhi

Retired banker with poetry and photography as chief interests
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One Response to Locusts

  1. zw.words.indoses says:

    nice poem! I like how you show humans and locust are very much similar. In such a comparison, do you suggest that existence is fleeting?

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