1.              An old age-worn grey-headed man
was he
                               With stony
deep-set eyes and wrinkles deep
                               With sunken
cheeks like a shriveled tree
                               Tanned by scorching sun as he climbs hills
steep.
              2.              A long spear supported his weary frame
                               A dusty ragged
cloak covered his body bare
                              Through thorny
bushes and marshy ground he came
                               Like a ghost he
seemed with grizzled beard and piercing stare.
             3.               I beheld this figure grim, gaunt
and dark
                               In solitary
hills moving with cautious tread
                               Beside the
stream shaking his unruly locks
                               A weird soul
alone with no sense of dread.
             4.              With tottering gait he went with  somber face
                       
      Like
a moving statue enchanted by magic spell
                              At night with a
slow, determined pace   
                              Wandering alone beside rills and dales.  
             5.              I hailed that crawling
creature up the hill
                              Clapping my
hands to fill my idle hours
                              He turned his
gaze unmoved like a statue still
                              Staring stern
with unsubjugated power.
              6.           “Whither goes this track?” asked I in
friendly tone
                            “To forests
yonder with bamboos overgrown “
                            “Where dost thou dwell? Art
thou alone?”
                            “Wherever I stay, I call
that place my own.” 
               7.           I wondered at his
careless response bold
                             Looking at his leathern bag and spear he
had
                             He stood like a savage
upright of ages old
                             In simple
dauntless innocence clad.
               8.          Gazing at my
doubting eyes he grinned and said     
                           “A poor hunter
I am roaming at night
                             Like a spirit let loose
from the land of the dead
                             To track the
prey with this torch burning bright.”
               9.         “Beside the
trickling rivulet and mountain pools
                            Surrounded
by steep rocks and dense banyan shades
                            Where
tortoises come slowly to sip waters cool
                            I catch
them with my net, long spear and spade.
              10.         Their popping eyes
glitter like stars at night
                            As they come out from their
mud-covered nests
                           To catch
those slow-moving creatures, I quietly wait
                           While they
stretch their necks from their shells and slowly strut.
              11.        Though age has dented
his face and physical state
                            He roams as
ever committed to his toil
                            Never did he complain about his
impoverished state
                            Ever did he
remain an earnest son of the soil.
              12.         Bedecked with chains
of ivory beads and shells
                            Ever
watching at night beside the fords and rills
                            He lives
like a recluse in his solitary cell
                            A life though
hard, he feels a sense of peace and thrill. 
              13.        His robust features revealed his life so
hard
                           I stared at his strong shoulders and broad
chest
                           As he through gloomy bushes
and jungles trod
                           A soul so free, so bold I
never met.
 ********************************************************************************************
Note : Dear readers, most of you might have read William Wordsworth's poem "Resolution and Independence" (The leech-gatherer) where the poet portrays the life of an old man who pursues his vocation of catching leeches though it involves much physical strain, patience and perseverence. During my boyhood once a beggar came to my house carrying a small tortoise in a basket. He was a tribal with a strong hefty body in spite of old age. He answered me that the tortoise stays near bushes in the forest and he had to wander in woods to catch them at night time. I remembered this incident when I read Wordsworth's famous poem where the old man looks :
                       "  Like a sea-beast crawled forth, that on a
shelf 
                               Of rock or sand reposeth, there to sun
itself;" 
Couched on the bald top of an eminence; "
" His body was bent double, feet and head
Coming together in life's pilgrimage; "
In my poem also the tortoise gatherer leads a strenuous life in spite of his old age and his body though shrivelled with growing years still has stamina and will-power to withstand the strain and he lives like a recluse in his forest dwelling without depending on others. His spirit of independence and boldness are portrayed in this poem.
***********************************************
24th March, 2018 Somaseshu Gutala
                  24th March, 2018                              Somaseshu Gutala























