Poems of Hardik Vaidya
|381.||The eagle is back||3/14/2013|
|383.||The Eternal Need||1/19/2013|
|384.||The Farmers of India||4/24/2013|
|385.||The Final Proposal||3/1/2013|
|387.||The Geeta In Your Kiss||5/2/2013|
|388.||The Global Crash of Religions||3/5/2013|
|390.||The impossible poem||4/7/2013|
|391.||The King of Fruits||4/14/2013|
|392.||The Least You Could Do||2/26/2013|
|393.||The life of a sales professional||3/7/2013|
|394.||The Light of India||3/5/2013|
|395.||The Long and Short Of İt||3/3/2013|
|396.||The mindless fog.||3/16/2013|
|398.||The New Alphabet||2/26/2013|
|399.||The new raj||3/30/2013|
|400.||The new Veda||3/23/2013|
Barbarism is the child of man not woman.
It dies a dogs death every second, when the kind awakens in men.
The pangs of labor are not unknown. They are nightmares, holocausts.
Man before being kind is stupid. To be stupid is manly to be kind is men.
Temples, churches, mosques have been defiled, idols smashed, books burned.
Ideas imprisoned, thoughts buried, minds muffled, voices muzzled.
Heads have been rolled, blood has been let from veins for vain, with mirth.
Free has been the ethic of