Dr. Yogesh Sharma Poems

My heart bleeds up to remember,
The dead corpse of the martyrs,
The bloody twenty six / eleven in calendar,
O, God! Save them, souls never to tire.
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Mulayam, Maya and Lalu the jest;
Raja, Kalmadi and Karuna, all are pest,
But above all Man Mohan-Sonia, chant honest declaration,
Against them and their family all is false allegation.
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O! Death don’t scare your children,
One may doubt the existence of god,
But can’t doubt your reality,
Omnipresent death is always with me,
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Teaching is not a profession,
It is a holy vocation,
It is a divine mission,
It needs committed attention.
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He preaches only one religion, the religion of love;
He teaches only one language, the language of heart;
He creates only one caste, the caste of humanity;
He writes only one law, the law of karma;
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When millennium super star rocks the tinsel town,
All and sundry looked at him down,
Paragon of grace from heel to crown,
Majestically gifted and smartly slim reign.
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I am not a body,
Nor I am a soul.
I am an idea,
I am a feeling.
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Hair-stands on ends like dry log,
Oiled and coiled like a hangman’s rope.
Eyes-dry and lost; lips-ugly and scared,
Cheeks, with hot, red blisters, crowded.
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Most colorful God of life play on this day,
Festival of love and colors and shun hate and sin;
And, having tamed hate and death, delivers blissful ray,
Colors of love are showered on, to win.
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Modern love and lovers lie sleeping,
Through out the year among the bushes,
Hugging in the sunlight bright:
Black buffaloes come grazing,
...