Sreedevi Sadasivan

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This a poem I wrote some years  back.
 I used to travel in a really crowded bus everyday to reach my college. 
That gave me the inspiration for this poem. Quiet ironically the bus was 
called heaven.

Cold breeze tickled my nose,  As I stood there waiting for heaven.  Eyes planted on that misty lane,  Coins still wet and clutched.  There it creaked to my front  And ceased.  Its door ever opened and calling,  I plunged into with a deep breath.  Before I took a second  I heard the bell ring and  Fell, tricked by inertia  Praise Lord, I could grasp a hold  Blinded by headed walls,  I sensed the mind of  Sandwiched bread  My weight crushed from all sides.  Learning the ballet was never so fun,  Tip toeing to save my leg.  Pricked and pierced from all around  I felt amidst stingy bugs.  My inside turned upside down  As it cherished its favorite U-turn  And slithered to and fro  In rhythm to its motion.  Where on earth would you get this treat?  Eat hair and drink sweat.  But keyhole respiration  Is an art by itself.  I did envy those sitting souls,  Their seats worth the queen’s throne.  It struck, the freedom bell  And I packed my lungs a third.  Coming out in parts was sick,  But when that bit of proof was thrown  I felt the pleasure of seven births,  For the morning air couldn’t be sweeter.

14 APR AT 22:40