My Grande​ Dame

I never felt my legs since six,

And ever loved my lake since then

My boat was my cradle

And my lake was my Grande Dame.

I remember those greener days,

When my lake was pure

And my oar was free

from the floating bottles.


I never felt my legs since six

And ever loved my lake since then.

My boat became my last hope

And bottles became my close friends.


I saved them from my lake

And rowed them to shore

And they told me their story,

Poor fellows were born to be abandoned.


Synopsis of Poem:


This poem is dedicated to a poor old man (who is paralyzed below his knees ) collecting plastic waste from the Vembanad lake and other streams of Kumarakom, in Kerala, India.

He would hire a small country boat and venture out to collect plastic every day, early in the morning; he would maneuver using a stick or his oar. He mainly collects plastic bottles that were dumped in the waters.

Link below:


Originally Published in the Silver Bierch Press
Magazine,Los Angeles on 29th Jan 2022.
PHOTO: Vembanad Lake by Simianwolverine (2013)
News Source: The News Minute, Human Interest 
             Story by, Haritha John.


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