Revolt Poem by Anil Kumar Panda

Someday my heart will bleed for you and
I will go to buy a flower of exquisite color
That does not bloom in the earth. I will make
Wind of the petals of that flower and decorate
Your luxurious hair. It will go on playing with
Your dark lock releasing its fragrance to my
Courtyard where I will be dyeing like
An undernourished poet counting the dead leaves
Under my feet. I hope you will not say no to
My request of releasing the wind into the void
So that it will bring back many more famishing
Poets to you. Now I am young and you call me
An old poet. What will you call me when
I will be sleeping below the earth and your memory
Will be fading away like a wisp of smoke
From an incense stick from the mind of young poets.