An Ingenuous Tribute Poem by DILIPBHASKER MATHRA

I dislike wars ever fought in this world and still out
I despise everyone who supports the wars
I hate to hear endless pity of it
And the pity wars distilled.
The past years of history expose
Countless unholy rituals of ruin
How the wars unleashed dreadful havoc
Of fear and departed depopulated race
Like horrific gale emphasised in
Boundless sufferings and bleedings.
Among the dying and the dead,
The foes who died and those who triumphed
Were not heroes or dauntless.
Amidst the thunder like charges of guns,
The deplorable wail of innocents end in
pity of solitude.
And placid mind of kind hearted would
turn turbulent.
But the dreadful yell of warriors might
neither be heard
Or be preserved as salient monuments.
True war is such when fought for justice
against injustice,
Nor is it a glorious element to conquer tyrant’s lust.
But the tears of living whose dears forfeited
Their valuable life for ever
For the sake of the greed of the rulers
Are so heinous and fickle to hear.
Such hardest penance is the gloomy scene
In horrifying spirit is the truth untold.
The piteous recognition of victory is
The savages tribute of mourners.
The manifestation of false harmony
Is like chorded shell from the mouth of
thunderous cannon.
But Oh! Why this world’s womb so harsh
For the blood of innocents?
Why so nasty with dismay and dishonour
Against the simple human wishes?
The truth always lies too deep to delve
But when that is out, courage might not be mystery
To defend against all false hood that encumber
the dignity of mankind.
Thus, war becomes inevitable to protect the distressed
From the vampires claws who enslaved them
Mercilessly with out distinct cause.
In contra, I would prefer to glorify such warriors
Who could terminate all the falsehood and hatred
To establish kindness and love, considering that
All enmity should be driven out.
But in the depth of my groaning heart
In my weary consciousness
I dislike wars and shall dedicate
Ingenuous tribute to those innocents
Like a chauvinist over this blood spilled land.