Torn was the tranquil night's silence
By those tiny droplets in abundance
From inside the kitchen!
Pouring the gentle breeze
Moaning was the ceiling fan!
Slowly..creeping out was the breathe
Blended with the cigarette smoke
Through the open window there!
Empty bottles of hot drink
And those wasted food
Lay there Scattered..not for good!
Sitting in the shabby floor,
There he is scribbling a psalm
About plunging societal needs
That spread across as a bruise!
A poignant and vivid poem, Karunandhy. Thanks for posting it for us to share
Thank you, Kelly Kurt..it is very much encouraging, for a beginner like me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice satire; ; ; Good thinking