Thursday, 15 October 2020

Lockdown Unlocking Worker's Grief

Whether it was bitter winter,

Whether it is scorching sun,

We are workers, work like slave,

For hours and hours,

Weeks and weeks,

Months and months,

Whether the years become leap,

We never take rest and sleep,

Our applauding appetite,

Don't count hours.

Life is swimming pool of sour,

Work in day, work in dim,

To fill some inch within,

You rejoice, you triumph,

Even when you sealed the meal,

We watch, because it is big deal.

No sound, no solutions,

For us only allusion of allowances,

That too you sallow,

We have to live in hollow.

The raisins line rise,

Till on our face,

And sweats of ours,

Slides in grace,

We face not features,

Of our feathers,

That which can fly,

We bear barefoot wear.

Though bubblegum bloom and burst.

We march and march,

Without your trust.

You fade us,

And our life become pale,

Then also, we will never fail.

When your face, fastidious flux,

As like air blow,

Through faraway all the dust,

But we will wait,

Time will toss,

Then what happened,

When we shall cross.

You just seeing a chorus song,

Long live our Democracy.

And dismiss and demolish,

Where we are stand.

Have you tried to understand?

Her Hovering Soul

O, Unseen souls,

Are you hearing?

Tuneless tune.

The sneezing, sobbing,

Suffering, tattered,

Body and soul.

There is no casements,

To catch the glimpse.

There is no doors,

To take out steps.

No equity, no esteem,

Always chewing,

And chewing neem.

We are inhaling and exhaling,

Always on stake.

Life is more, worse then hell.

Till how much errant,

Till how much arrogant.

Living dry in dry land,

Demean dull sour soul,

Knocking the delusive door.

The dry grass,

Was also cry.

Inhumane, incisor,

Bite not body,

But the whole,

And even our soul.

At last there was,

No sound of,

Human hounds.

All the flesh,

Erode away,

We float,

Just like ice flow,

We burn like,

Chimney coal.

No one save us,

Even alive or dead.

At that sight,

Voice become dim,

No light and no beam,

For ours,

Morning bright of my kin.

Sunday, 3 May 2020

Men's Land

It is the moment of exultant for Navodaya Mission Family, as by God’s grace, second poetry book (Men’s Land) of Dr. Richa Smriti, volunteer of Navodaya Mission has been published by traditional publishing house Ukiyoto from Canada.

Title Name – Men’s Land

Ukiyoto Paperback –

Amazon eBook –

Amazon Paperback –

Men's Land................
In the past decades, in the present date, 
We have been living like a dead shell. 
How far we will live like a slave? 
In the valley of hell.  

The buzz of only one sound, 
It has been getting louder. 
The chorus sound is in,  
Maximum hertz of maximum decibels.

We are becoming deaf, 
The cruelty still crush, thrash, harass, 
And we are sleeping, 
Like a dead stone. 

 The leaves tremble, 
When the clouds become coal, 
Then how can we step,  
Free surrounding of sour soul. 

 This is the hell, 
The men’s dominant villages, cities, 
Streets, states and countries. 
How we will step? 

 O! are we forget!  
Draupadi, Sita and Padmawati. 
Had they saved?  
By the fortune or the miracle. 

 Tarabai Shinde's endeavors to erase the evil of society. 
Ramabai Ranade's voices to harmonize human, 
Where the term of equality gone? 
Why there is a red zone? 

Forget that we were Marie Curie, 
We were Indra, Phule, Holkar, 
Chawla to Teresa  … ...  
And still we will so many more.  

 Oh! This is Kalyug 
No Krishna will appear, 
No Hanuman,  
No Ram.  

 Where we will hide? 
In the oyster shell, 
In the city of hell,  
Optimize with the odds.  

 You drag,  
You choke,  
You oppress and kill, 
And we see, like a dead shell.  

 Don't wear Pyjamas, 
Don't wear skirts, 
Don't wear jeans, 
Hide your parts. 

 They appear skinny legs, 
They appear the bare legs, 
They appear the sexy legs, 
They appear the nude legs. 

Put on vermilion, 
Wear burka, 
But still are we safe, 
Under the chastity cage.  
................... More in Book