Woman

O! Poet Bumblebee,
please don’t repeat such poetry
which are hummed
by the dancing rhythm of the sweet sounds
coming out of the bangles
and leg ornaments having small bells,
of the prostitutes.
The lady laborers are living cursed lives.
They are working very hard in impassable mines
and dangerous forests,
bathing with their tears and sweat.
Their hands
and feet have become very thin
and bodies have become weak.

O! Poet Bumblebee,
please don’t repeat such poetry which narrates
the sexual pleasure
describing the bored beauty of a young girl
compared with the temple of Lord cupid.
The wife of the tribal person is very simple
and living a miserable life.
Every day her drunkard husband beats her.
Due to poverty
she wants to kill the baby growing in her womb.
If anyhow she gives birth,
then also she sells the new born.

O! Poet Bumblebee,
please don’t repeat such poetry,
which compares the beauty of the belly button of a lady,
exposed due to the looseness of the garment
with a softbud of a lotus flower.
Now a days, a rustic girl, Radha cries.
She is harassed to get a shelter.
Her dress is tor.
She is frightened by the burning hunger.
The smile of her face is eclipsed by
the ridiculous denial for a little food.

O! Poet Bumblebee,
please don’t repeat such poetry
which describes the ornamented face of a lady
dazzling through fish like eyes
and glorified by long black hairs.
Here, the foetus of girl child,
while swimming fearlessly in mother’s womb is killed
by her own father.
Sita, an innocent girl is made like a commodity
in the horrible dowry market.

O! Poet Bumblebee,
please don’t repeat such poetry
which is wet by the sweet juice of the pair of
vessel-like breasts.
The village girl Krishnaa is captured
by the cunningness of villains like Dushasan.
She is being forced to satisfy the sexual thirsty
and thrown to the highways.

O! Poet Bumblebee,
please don’t repeat such poetry
which is pictured by the red spots of kissing
on the lips of beautiful women.
Kunti, an old woman is now knocking
door to door to search for a job.
She is beaten by her own sons.
Kunti is living like a dead body.
Her pair of breasts,
hanging down are kissing her own belly button.

O! Poet Bumblebee,
you please extinguish the heat of the fire,
burning in the hearts of poor women.
This poet does not oppose you rather
he is humbly requesting all
to please eradicate these piteous problems in the modern age.

O! Poet bumblebee,
you please keep it in mind that
the both sweet and useful poetry is ever remembered.