By: Neelam Dadhwal
I looked out of the container
a refreshing life, as if cells
could soak oxygen. Tripled
on its contents on way with
friends and half down the valley
we lay wreath on our expedition.
Half of truths, being told, yet whose fault
when unguided we trek on branded
soda; before us outcrops of limestone
or magnesium, honestly do not know;
we leave between sliding plates
a new form, plastics.
People revered us as mythological forms
“bright young men of big towns”
and surely glint of our teeth and
slimmer bodies at point, heck with
some gizmos, roughly could not be found;
garbage of neoplatonism.
[Neelam Dadhwal is born and brought up in Chandigarh, India. She holds Masters in Computer Sciences and English. She started writing poetry in 2011 as a hobby. Today, her work appears in Muse India, The Unknown Pen and Literary Yard. She has also penned a poetry book, “Straight From Life.” She writes in free verse and her poems are based on different themes. Her weekly poems could be found at http://prismofjoy.blogspot.in.%5D