Tag Archives: Weak

Enslaved

a poem by Jayant Kashyap

Oh! Dreams, they kill me,
I feel like dried, and pressed thereafter,
To be stacked in some corner, or
To be thrown in some shattered pile;
I feel like being an object-
Enslaved!
And these inanimate creations,
Of my mind, holding my reins.

Helpless She

a poem by Alok Mishra

They laid motionless, sans breath,
Sans soul in their dead corpses,
Their hearts denied too… ah Misery!
One branch falling upon other
From the same root, same tree,
Both bleeding fell, kissed the earth,
Mistook as theirs, some other’s territory!
Now She, Mother earth, over the mirth
Of her infants, laughs, weeps and contemplates…