A Take On ''Winter Storms Mad Organ Playing'' Poem by Radhamani Sarma

Those vile, crazy in the
grip of battle guns, exchange
their prowess.
The city is in the grip of
Fear and vendetta striking:
Sombre November splashes
its rains and vultures
in blood bath,
Hellish darkness spiralling,
For Moon hides her Face
Beneath the interface
Where thundering winter’s
mad organs roving,
dying soldiers lips mutter
these last words to their
women in anguish,
‘’Be bold, take care
Of our children, for
We come for a cause ‘’.