Past the graveyard down the road,
Lives or dies a man out cold
Every minute is a burning desire
For him to feel there's nothing higher.
Hope he knows is also despair,
The lie of the land begins to stare
Every minute is a burning desire
For him to feel there is nothing higher.
Will any hand rise from the many dead?
Maybe it's time to be quiet instead
Breath continues no more so
The dead is the living let the dying grow
The man with nothing in him to feel
A sorrow or regret meaningless to conceal
Yet every minute is a burning desire
For him to feel there's nothing higher!
Yet every minute is a burning desire For him to feel there's nothing higher! ~ Great bereavement yet so touchy moving diction …finality has been finalized … congrats for sharing Sir Ms. Nivedita UK 10/10
Smartly well described and well scripted, fully thoughtful and engrossing, I like it.
An Excellent write Ajay. I particularly like the title. A great Poem of the day. Congrats.
Excellent imagery evoking the feelings of what can only be a desperate person seeking any help he can get even if that were to be a graveyard. 'Will any hand rise from the many dead' is powerful.
the vagrants try to sleep on the concrete slab of the cemeteries, as those places are more convenient for them to have proper rest and it is the common sight in our part of the world! the idea you had conceived to write this poem is nice...but Yet every minute is a burning desire For him to feel there's nothing higher! as long as the livings have the stomachs, the fire in it will make them to wake up! the stomachs are higher than any else in the world! Congratulations! Ajay! I like your poems!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An inspired poem. Descriptive, well penned! ; D