People pale and grey, city hot and dry;
A red color fire in the sky,
Divine warm, bright sun on full fury;
When the wet wind will rise, I cry
All the thick, cool trees were out of sight,
Every where it was the fury of burning light,
Dead concrete structures adding dim plight,
Even wet sources were cracking apart.
Brooding over the pain drove me insane,
I writhed and sweat, filled with pain;
I stood dumb and deaf, dreaming for rain;
I lay there, my prayers were in vain.
Suddenly, I sensed cool breeze;
Perhaps lord Indra sprinkled some freeze,
It blew away all the dry and wild geese,
Killing heat was thinned to deliver new lease.
But damn, the brutes were waiting;
I was sobbing there, gazing and groaning,
The heavy clouds has to move, moaning;
Again the brute be there dancing and laughing.
Very nice imagery in your words. I enjoyed your poem, thanks for the share.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Intresting piece with great imagegry n as always steady flow of words and rhythm.Thanks 4 sharing