How difficult it is to write any more,
When words are robbed of their meaning,
Some overused, some stale and
Yet others bandied and branded by the hypocrites
How difficult it is to write in images,
When the corns are grey with a farmer’s grief
When streets are filled with smoke and dust
And a naked child dying in hunger
How difficult it is to look at the sky
With high rises clawing at the sky
Sucking the blood of those millions beneath
A dusky world filled with murky nails that entail us.
How difficult it is to watch a cricket match and a movie
When/where money fumes up like sky scrapers
The fashionable world has a fashionable morality
Some entertain and some feed you
But those who feed you, die
Did you ask me
To express my love in such a time,
In such words, such images
I couldn’t but stare at you
Blankly
And you thought I couldn’t express my love.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
I really liked this poem, a little bit sad, but I like sad things. I think everything is sad in this world. You write wonderfully.
Let not cynicism overpower you....it can be addictive and self consumed, don't give us blank ghostly stare, morbidity of dream is unseemly and scary
Every day every hour I keep repeating a simple sentence :"That time will pass off too", no matter a good or a bad day it is ahead
Post a Comment