The Street Act

The Street Act

A torn, colourful turban,
A shallow unshaven face,
A shadow of existence
Of society's downtrodden race.

Mesmeric beating of drum,
The cadence of pulsating life,
Performing monkeys in tow
And a child on the hips of his wife.

In their lilting voices they sing
A haunting gypsy tune
Of their feats and their magic
About to commence soon.

The child walks on the tight rope
With a long balancing pole,
The compelling beat of the drum
Urges him to his goal.

To the tapping of his stick
The monkeys sommersault,
To the glee of the street urchins
They perform without a fault.

They walk around with a tin can
In which coins jingle and fall
The act is done with 'salaams'
And the crowd claps enthralled.

They have earned their meagre bread,
Their hunger today, perhaps held at bay,
They will perform in another street,
Another show, another day.

It is a savage divide between these people
And those bemoaning their computers failing to boot.
The logic of the drum beats of the Gods
Sounds obscure, harsh and mute.

~ Krishna ~
30 May 2001

More Poems By Krishna

Home