Thursday 5 October 2017

Tree Cry
























The soft, and cool breeze passes,
Where I am and my companion belongs.
Save from scorching sun and dust,
Along with my kith and kin.

Give you fresh atmosphere,
We accumulate, all the odds of yours.
Give you shade, and shelter.
Our greenish is your life.

When you are alone,
Sit beneath us.
We give you company,
Without disturbing and whispering.

In the winter, chilly cold
At that time you hold.
Our precious parts, feel you warmth
We behold, and become coal.

We never occur a single word,
Masses and masses,
Make us hurt,
Then also We keep mum.

My community is at stake,
You are taking ours’ life.
For making yours’ life bright,
In which megalomania, you are!

If We will finish,
Then can you survive.
Our pain, you can’t see
There is bleed,
When your weapon’s struck us,
When we see our family in pain,
Then all sing chorus cry,
But that cry can’t hear
That bleed can’t see
But that pain can’t feel.
Is doesn’t mean
That We are not a being,
We are not a being.

 




Friday 11 August 2017

Mother at McLeodganj















Under the age of eighteen,
Eight months on the back.
Tight  with the lace,
Not Kangaroo pouch.
But looks it must be.

Her body other parts
Revolves very fast.
In every direction,
Not taking single second
To sit and stare.

Almond's shape eyes,
Dry as raisin.
Leg and hand,
Looks as like sand,
As bone peeps with green vein.

Appear apparels covers,
The other body parts,
But the chilly cold surpass.
But the numb hand continue,
Erect without any rest.

Fingers of leg shrunk,
As like crab,
But she still in position.
In the open firmament,
No fear of season sheer.

There is agony of pain,
In which she burn and run,
But who cares in this world.
Where we only stand and stare,
And then forget, who cares, who cares
And be unaware.