The New year 2013, in trepidation slips faintly;
head-long in India while it bleeds shockingly.
The patient Sea awaits its souls rained rudely.
while somebody blocks their brooks brutally.
Poor parents awaits nurses as patients patiently
for nurses to nurse ere their pulse falls abruptly.
For thirteen days we forgot the feudal FDI fully
Our M.Ps' empathy poured in media profusely.
"Thirteen" an accursed number mourns lowly
holding high the news of rape or hope crudely
News of corruptions and the corrupted partly
merge or submerge in clamour in vain freely.
The reckless leads a life carefree fearlessly
And they glide in politics scot-free wryly
Pharaohs wield the power to save and to kill
Challenging God's sole unique authority, still.
The twinkling starry eyes of my darling fill
In me Calm Nature's emerald hope and Will
That's interesting. How long have you written in English? You have an excellent grasp of nuance. Thanks, Mark
This is lndeed a great write! Let us hope, something good shall emerge from 13, flouting the popular superstition that 13 is an unluky number
T.S Eliot once praised Indian philosophy, now we can say, India is waste Land.Still, we hope.something good will be there in 2013.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is indeed a good poem well written