There is anger raging in the streets,
There's a conflict still inside;
Trying to tamp the fire, enduring the heat
It is yet, a courageous battle to fight.
In the name of leaders
The thugs took all away.
No hands do together:
Come fool all again!
There was the best I had
So I had to let it go;
I can keep my bread
Though unfed and hollow.
There, a game of cursing enlivened
Where the lights had all gone off.
A fire vigorously lightened
And the embers couldn't help but scoff.
The darkness with a chest of pride
Boasted in the gallows
And the clouds had barred the night
Prevented us the sight of grim shadows.
Where is this garden,
The brimming river silence,
The leaves freshly moistened,
And fruits fully ripened?
I held a photograph
A captured childhood memory,
While the people dead
Couldn't wave at their family.
The pious peace talkers
Talked of lesser peace but money
For there wasn't a hire,
Never heard of, since disharmony.
Risking the day
By travelling through the night
No grass to lay
And no blissful light.
Desperate liars crawling in the walls,
They have their own gutter to hide.
In the gnarled future of our very own world
We shall find a way to coincide.
There is a garden,
Where dreams enliven,
Love from the leaves awaken,
A brimming silence;
The rivers murmur
The cries here are softer,
The ripening is much sweeter
The heaven of all the wonders.
©himadri_chekanidhara
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Transcendence
PoetryHello, there readers! For a quick introduction to my work would suit its subtitle- 'A Collection of Scattered Feelings', I have maintained no fixed mood, so that my dear readers may see beyond a specific feeling, to feel it. The moods vary form sli...
