Not a morsel for her every grain hath been shared, the empty plate shines reflecting her freckled face… mockingly it shows her vulnerability saddened eyes painted with poverty… pangs of hunger make noise the rattle of unfilled stomach is heard even if disguised… laughs the empty plate at the cruel fate what a destined day! Where the world feasts and I remain starving for days… wish I was a possession of a proud kitchen decked with sumptuous dishes to succor for then, I would not have been so vindictive cursing my owner, the famished being …
I, poverty, thy destitute figure of humanity,
In rags and mud , I am strewn,
Crushed by offsprings of supremacy
An illegitimate child of power , Iam,
littered ,cluttered , scattered
The bitter truth of the world,
I, poverty, the homeless progeny…
… of the created hypocrisy…
Broods who in thousands ,
agonize in vacillating hearts…
never fathered by the dominions
although I am stripped and denied my part,
dither none, the authority stands unfretted,
I die and get buried
in the human carcasses…
to appear again in another misery
I, poverty, indigent is my form!
What made the common man suffer in the fight for survival? What made him so vulnerable against the pitiable condition? Who tied his hands behind ,with strings of unfaithful symptoms? Forgetting the core of humanity ,what makes him shed his dead skin? The political vendetta is blame game of irrationalism Have you ever watched the chameleon with different colours? Beside the scene, sits the common man quietly When shall his inner voice scream for justification…? Shall a crusade ever start within the hard core shell of man wears who the mask of public, politician, official or lawmaker Of different genres , of different dispositions Tis the mankind which suffers… offspring of whom we are … lost,stranded and forgotten.
Here is an audio visual treat from the creators of “Suroor of the Soul” , me and Shaheen .
Nature with the eternal music and a verse in a soft voice is always a delight! Sharing with you the video of “A BUD” from the pages of ” Suroor of the Soul”.
In written words I respire ,
in spoken I dance!
in the rustling of tender leaves
I discover a mellifluous tune
which basks in the glory
of the shining sun…
beneath the shelter of
the lovely mulberry…
my ears hear the playful melodies
the noise of crickets
and some frogs playing near,
yet in their croaking voice I find
the melody of the enchanting nature…
the gushing flow of the brook near
flock of canaries swing
with butterflies swirling over
I celebrate the autumn song
of precious earth
in tiny sounds
that I hear!
O ! flying bird !
where doth you perch
beyond the majestic mountains
flows the immaculate ocean of love…
where doth you play
amongst the flora and fauna
the elegant lotus awaits
your transformed persona…
Thousand petals will bloom
when you fly within
touching the horizon and diving deep