Earth Poem

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Earth

Mother earth,

I bow my head on your feet!

You raise us by giving us

food, water and warmth.

Earth weeps when it sees

Tones of tones wheat

do not go to those mouths

of millions hungry children

but it gets ruined burned under

the unseasonal torrential rain.

We unthankful children of yours

Let it happen and do not save

it from this natural disaster.

The earth – the rich soil of

my land of five rivers: Punj+aab

irrigated with these waters and

with farmworkers blood and sweat         ..

gives us golden wheat and paddy         

in abundance in our fields.

The golden ripe crops get

destroyed and ruined in the rain

outside under the weeping sky –

The wheat is grown enough

to feed the whole India and

to keep the hunger away.

But is it God’s will perhaps not that

poor will have to stay hungry for ever.

Farmworkers and consumers shed tears

Rich and politicians do not see the tears!

And the deaf and dumb rulers raise

their white elephant pets, pamper then

with expensive cars for joy riding!

Where is the father of the nation today!

Why do hungry and the poor have to wait

until the full stomachs are being over fed?.

That’s right hunger can wait until famine!

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“There are seven things that will destroy us: Wealth without work; Pleasure without conscience; Knowledge without character; Religion without sacrifice; Politics without principle; Science without humanity; Business without ethics.”   — Mahatma Gandhi

 

 

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Dream

 

POETRY WALKS  IN MY DREAM

by surjeet kalsey

In a reoccurring dream

my feet walk on the same road

which goes on and on winding

and rapping around the buff mountains

and sinks into that velvety valley.

My foot steps end right there.

My dream never ends keeps walking

on the unending realm of the hidden path.

Poetry walks towards my inner core

it listens to my heart beat

and my unspoken words.

When poetry opens its eyes

the sun shines everywhere

and dew-drops become pearls.

Poetry travels from the moonless night

to a spectrum of seven colours.

Words are sacred and tell me:

don’t lament on what is lost.

Crave for what you want and

live every moment in full

Breathe in the essence of

every moment and each moment

that embraces you would become poetry.

Poetry stands by me like my true self.

Look up in the mirror of the sky

it holds all the colours of the rainbow.

Therefore, nothing is lost.

Memories go long way that

make us to pick those pieces

left somewhere in the pages of history.

Memory knits words in my dreams.

Poetry walks with me on that

never ending path every night.

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…And The Flight Dies In The Wings

 

At the seashore

the scarlet rays of the setting  sun

slowly dipping down into the water

touch the shimmering waves.

 

The oil keeps on gushing

spilling and contaminating

the vast waters of the ocean

the cool breeze used to pass

through my hair gently

now it smears my hair

with the smoky oliy mist.

 

In the fading oily sun light 

the silhouette of the flying birds

with black and thick feathers

with dangling fligt trying to fly

and the flight dies in the wings.

Along with the shore, sea-shells,

driftwood, pebbles and oil blobs

birds are stuck there

their feet their feathers

all stuck in the oily mud

their tiny soft feathers

pushing in vain get heavy

with the sluggish waves,

the waters became black

the air is thick with

the smell of the oil.

The birds try and try to fly

but get planted there forever

cannot breathe cannot eat.

Countless thousands are dead

countless will be dead soon.

 

I fear what would become

to my feet walking along

the shore on the oily sands

if I dip my feet

in the sea water at the shore!

What would become

the bone white sea -shells,

honey drift wood,

multi-colored pebbles,

the golden sand,

my bare henna-colored feet  

my footprints?

Life is dying

and the flight dies in the wings!   

KanyaKumari