Akhtar Jawad

Gold Star - 129,647 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

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  • (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

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, March 3, 2015

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