Poem

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Actually I wrote this ode after hearing and seeing a dead kid on TV couple of days ago- it is rumored that the kid was killed during a police raid; it happened in Punjab, and the police raided while the mother was in childbirth, well that's supposed to be how things happened....but all i know is that the kid was dead....

Submitted: December 18, 2006

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Submitted: December 18, 2006

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Mute child here not now

Unborn, unwed, unlived, closed eyes

Mother’s swollen breast white milk drippin

to the

Ground;

O’ but you’d have lived unremarkable

in the garden of life

Today that you spend in this world,

In hot air atmosphere,

flapping flies beaten away by thine mother’s

bony hand

O’ Tomorrow when the east sunrise,

an high among fluffy clouds you rest

What

your lifeless body, languageless tounge speak to

allseeing, allknowing God, O’ Lord

offered to you heaven or life

would thine choose anew

to come back here

to the garden of life


© Copyright 2018 prabhakar. All rights reserved.

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