Poet Farmers Revolt
With pen held close to his chest he thought,
He believed and he pursued his poetry
No currency was sufficient for the lines to be bought
As his poems were his oratory
To change the old world
Where people die everyday
Commands he who has the sword
And a skillful drama at every corner and promises for a street play!
The lines cared little for a rhyme
It cared for a hymn
Which would be for the mass
To challenge their struggle at every grass
And so he wrote and filled up pages with his gibberish-
To wake up the society still feverish
He believed that the words would one day carve a new dawn-
Where it was the same between the king and the pawn
One night, late after he completed his daily poetic shit.
Prepared he was to dance to his new heart beat.
At last he had found those lines
And believed he, no one could challenge the coming times.
And with the greetings of the wooden cuckoo-
At early morning two,
Knocked his doors a never heard before hand.
Strange voice calling his name informed he and his writings were- banned.
Tears had no choice but to wait while angry Jose opened the door-
Faced the black hat pair, show caused them he with his sickle, his only weapon, a revolting poor.
They smiled and told him they were the agents of the sovereign.
And for this unruly act he must go to the prisoners inn.
Defiant Jose, ran the sickle in the air
Six chambers filled came out a revolver
Two distinct gunshots piercing the calm
Saved four, and Jose lay in his own bloods arm.
Not a single one ran to his rescue
The smoke from his hut came down as dark dew
Died Jose not alone but with his dear lines
His poetry received their funeral
But cold Jose was not buried
For him there were no spines.
Saptarshi Banerjee's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Poet Farmers Revolt by Saptarshi Banerjee )
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edna St. Vincent Millay
(22 February 1892 – 19 October 1950)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(c. 600 BCE)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
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