I wrote this poem on the prompt by the same name given by the Fb group ‘TSL’ in April . Its based on an experience I had on our last day of shopping in March this year, after which the malls closed.
For those who do not know when ‘Ripped jeans’ came into being and what they signified, you can read it here Ripped Jeans- the history Now read the poem and let me know what you think.
A high-end store Sliding glass door Bright spotlights, shiny marble tiles Hanging and folded in neat piles Along the aisles Are jeans in every style- Flair, boot-cut, skinny Straight, boyfriend, cropped and baggy Black, grey, white, peach, sap green shade And blue- once, an identifier of a man's trade! "It's the jean festival," the salesgirl beams "This here is a hot-seller," her eye gleams Pointing to a pair with a gaping hole That costs the price of many whole "Distressed!" she says, "This one, Ma'am." "Oh! That I most certainly am!" I say, looking at the price tag For something that looks like a rag 'No way I'll pay for something that's torn- That looks dilapidated and worn!' "Ripped jeans- they're all the rage," she says, trying to explain But it’s all in vain My mind is shut, I pick one out of the lot- threadbare! At the knee, I can’t help but stare. There's another that's shredded at the thigh I wonder why Anyone would especially pay For what the poor man wears every day! Wouldn't be easier to wear a pair of shorts Or perhaps scotts? "That one is is designer." She quips, not giving up, "It’s not made with the laser But hand-cut specifically.” And I’m thinking ‘Really! All I see is a glaring tear Invented in the seventies to say, ‘We dare!’ Tell me what it stands for now though So I’ll be convinced to part with my dough Don’t get me wrong, I’m no conservative I’m a liberal, not stuck up; but it’s imperative I understand this fad Before I buy jeans that are sad! ‘Distressed Ma’am, Not sad,’ she says, pointing to the stack As I pick up Mom jeans from the rack. Copyright@Smithavishwanathsblog.com. All Rights Reserved.