azmat naushad asif


Worn out


The silk worm
Crawling on the gazebo of
Mulberry leaves, spins
itself in the safety of cocoon.
Unaware, of its pending doom

And we with blood on our hands
And textile on our bodies;
Flaunt our rambunctious refinement
Acquired through centuries of massacre

Submitted: Thursday, August 02, 2012

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Comments about this poem (Worn out by azmat naushad asif )

  • Rookie Harriet James (8/2/2012 3:48:00 PM)

    I like this one, decades though rather than centuries, personally speaking! Of course, it could be also centuries for worn out immortal souls. Thanks, I really like the imagery, fan of metaphors. (Report) Reply

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