Poems on


a poem by Christuraj Alex

It’s not the exchange rate or demand I value,
When I think of any United States Dollar;
I think of the currency note or coin whose view,
Depict biographies of persons of valor…

John Quincy Adams, nation-thinker of no class,
Thomas Hart Benton, eminent and credible;
Salman Portland Chase, an inspirational bass,
Henry Clay, a slave-owner turned slave-loveable…

George Washington, known for highest integrity,
Abraham Lincoln, best of men of principles;
Theodore – stood for the earth- regularity,
Thomas Jefferson, gentle and personable…

I’d collected some dollars to keep them with me.
It’s not because I am a dollar collector.
I collect currencies of any small country.
It’s to be in touch with them as their respecter.

Struggle and freedom from merciless genocides,
From slavery, slave-trade, national apartheid;
Theft of land, heinously greatest of homicides,
Each in a dollar imprinted and embodied.

Bills might come and go even Bill Clinton did so.
Bills have values only when they have their backgrounds.
Bills have no value when newer bills make their show.
Bills or no bills. Life goes on just like hare and hounds.

Bills have much value when they come to India.
This is why the American’s like to visit.
They argue, bargain with the common media.
They find Indians are full of humor and wit.

The dollar is the treasury of history,
Let us not just look at the number and transact;
Stop; look, think and contemplate on its mystery,
That you get many a meaning to facts abstract.