A Request To Rhythm-Less Eighteens Poem by RAJAT GHOSH

I had witnessed the Bacchanal quality of eighteens
Whose continuous courage converted blood to boil
And to convey vim, as pure as greenness of greenery.

I was a witness to plead before all the vigor of eighteens,
How their prevented protests turn'd the authority to coil,
And how their worthy works hustled the religion's gallery.

I had seen the deep, dence love of youthful eighteens
What led our young Khudirams to protect Mother's soil,
And how their deathless deaths developed white rivalry.

I had observed fearless, fierce, furious battlers of eighteens
Who saintly sacrificed their breaths at Kargil's cold toil
And respectfully rested after answering on 26/11 burglary.




Sad! it's now to think of modern youths at twenty one's dawn
When the young buds wither by society's corrupted weather.
The vealy veins run the deadly drugs in limitless compulsion
And the addicted souls seek anchor at the tainted tower.
The broken thoughts swallow the youthful youngs' intellect
And lead saucy pedantics to utter infatuated words of protest.
Sad it is when a friend fails favourite friend's memery to protect
And readily accepts uncanny 'friend-requests' in time shortest.
Mournful really it is when Protest sleeps at dark-black hearts,
When a perverse youth embraces rope for 'rarest of rare crime'.
Yes, I'm standing where a young Turk loses way in mirage deserts.
So let eighteens be careful and think about your rhythm-less rhyme.