Akhtar Jawad

Gold Star - 109,383 Points (8-2-1945 / Gorakhpur)

Dirt - Poem by Akhtar Jawad

The helpless man could not kill the dirt,
He brought ashes and covered the dirt,
The rest was done by the burning sun,
The dirt was dried and changed in clay,
Great mother earth made it a fertilizer,
Crops were grown and harvested,
The dirt was eaten back by the man!
We are slaves of cycles and shall remain,
A slave of nature’s game of cycles.

Topic(s) of this poem: cycle


Comments about Dirt by Akhtar Jawad

  • Madathil Rajendran Nair (3/3/2015 4:49:00 AM)


    A profound observation, Sir, which we normally miss (10) . (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • (3/3/2015 2:17:00 AM)


    interesting one as always by the poet
    nice! ! !
    (Report) Reply

  • (3/3/2015 12:43:00 AM)


    another beautiful philosophic poem.....................10 (Report) Reply

Read all 3 comments »



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags


Poem Submitted: Tuesday, March 3, 2015



[Report Error]