STRIKE IN SNEAKER LAND

This is a poem that I wrote during my creative writing days...just for the heck of it. I'm rather proud of it actually, I think that I shall never be able to write poems that rhyme..free verse is what works for me.

STRIKE IN SNEAKER LAND

Smelly, dirty, fading ….. Ewww
With torn laces and frayed heels,
The tongues wagging out like a hungry dog’s
The soles crying for mercy.

Kassim, the miser could not have such shoes,
However lowly they may be,
At least, the old lady didn’t suffer much
When he threw the shoes on her,
Accidentally, of course!!!

Objects of glory, with brands and celebrities,
Scientific theories and new fangled techniques,
Guinea pigs and hushed subjects to it all,
Yet they neither swooned nor uttered a cry.

Like the fair maiden in the poem,
They bore it all with silent fortitude,
Like soldiers marching in the deeps of Ladakh,
Biting cold and freezing winter,
Silently abiding it all.

Victors of hockey matches, with broken spikes to verify,
Unsung heroes of cricket and soccer with tattered soles and souls.
Years of living with hideous grime and smelly stinker,
Like Cinderella and the ugly stepsisters.

No wonder then, about the strike in Sneakerland,
“The sneakers are on a strike”, or so the shoe -elves say,
Dear me, how will the people start their day!!

“Serves ‘em right” so quoth one sassy sneaker,
The smallest of the lot, with the longest tongue,
“They treat us like slaves, humiliate us, crush us and beat us,
They huff and puff and blow us all apart”.

But this time let the battle start,
We’ll show ‘em - the consequences of
abusing us and tearing us apart.

Lying in a corner, neglected and broken,
Like the glass slipper in the story,
Which one….. I fail to remember.