Barren Poem by Suhel Akram

The barren fields suffering drought,
bludgeoned in the star's scorching calefact,
abraded by the corpulent head of hammer,
vis-a-vis mixed acrimony of the farmer.
Is it its fate for its barren?

"Ye be clement with me."
"Ye go facile on me."
"Me might not be among-st Ye."
Snivels the barren field beseeching,
laments the field descrying broken fate.
Is it the fate for its barren?

Listens they not the laments of fields
convulsed they with laughter on whirled,
passed they glasses filled on carousal,
aperied they the laments of the dismal,
Is this how Ye behave for its barren?