Featured: Wattpad Poetry Feb 2022
My times spent having conversations about life, longing and love.....with myself.
In the company of solitude, I attempted to pen down a few lines on a range of emotions and experiences with a simple aim to revisit t...
They fought on horses and afoot, for masters, flags and boots, till dust settled on the cold face of red; youth unlived, unloved, now dead.
The mourning stopped when morning began; dead burnt, buried, some lost. The widows wailed, eyes swollen, orphaned toys; fallen, buried, forgotten.
The kings had sent them to the battles, for promised lands and songs maiden. All lost now, all forgotten. Now they sit below the throne, wondering, "Why I killed my sons?"
The queen walked, knocked each door; wooden doors–cracked, hungry , forgotten, doors, hiding nothing behind. She placed handful of hopes for each her relict; handful for hopeless lives–now forgotten.
Who wages these infinite wars, for years, decades, centuries and ages? Men against men, steel against steel, no promised land, no songs, no peace or place in heaven.
The battlefield is all alone now, with cloudy sky, vultures few, amber, crimson, reddish hue. Winds wail with the stench of lost love, lost dreams, lost hopes, lost peace! Here they all fought to die alone, for uncertain victories and certain dust.
All lay still, quiet now The men in olive green, who fought another shade of green. All permanently red now; leaving all white behind. The wars goes on and on, peace lays forgotten.
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