Sonnet Poem by Raghavendra Nayak

Sonnet

History is a dark and deep layer of pain, perfume of sins,
Loudly laughed at stone rascals names, by you and me;
A tender and timid word of his mouth never keeps away,
Worries were only left in the mind of Lenin and mine,

Indians hopes and guns are sinfully laughed at once,
Wait! When a power bows, then the wind also whistles;
An angry young beggar waits at gate, laughs over temple and power,
But my heart my mind must be needed rest on your tomb,

Every page is yet dark and dim, like empty cemetery,
We unable to dig over the truth of riots in the land of Mahatma,
But half happy half hope must be arisen like Jesus’ cream,

You and I are uncomfortable and incommunicable, for blood red;
Cold blooded hand hangs out the power of riots like Hitler style,
Wait! Give up not stroke of tearing, already noble dream disturbed.