It's like a big party, an open rendezvous

A conduit, receptacle for you and you and you

To throw out ideas or pick up something new

To agree or disagree about a thing or two



It's color-blind, oblivious to race, religion, creed

Expressions, writings, thoughts are what make up its daily feed

It's where the grass can grow harmoniously with the weed

It only sees the word in you, whatever be your deed



In that way, indiscriminate, the good along with not-so-good

A microcosm of a motley world where all kinds have walked and stood

And said their say and talked their talk in foul or festive moods

While many more looked on and thought, "If only I could, I would."



Just like the world out there, Chowk, too, must have its ritual clashes

And as the pen rises to face the sword's all-mighty flashes

It's words that spatter, ooze, and burn--impassioned bloodless splashes

And here too, things grow old and die--dust to dust and ashes to ashes



And on to the next topic, the matter of the day

A catchy poem? Analysis? Compelling little essay?

Hmm, let's see now, which one will hold my sway…

Ah! this one has both, religion AND sex, let's see what I can say…



Of 99+ replies there are some good, some not-so-good

And standing back I think, "If I could, I surely would."