Empty Whistle Poem by Mana Kavingyan

Walking through my village
There were mills that fed many family workers in the town.
It is no more
There was no more agriculture.
Farmers sold their land to wind farms.

Many poultries have come up in the fertile land
Let the broiler chickens drink better water.
Exporting the juicy chicken abroad

Still, my people are thirsty.
Old Workers are waiting for the Festival gifts
Some Worker's family has shifted already for survival

Still, the fabricated bankruptcies are feeding some nasty corporates with a political backbone.

Factory Sirens and the worker's family's rice cooker have become silent.
Termites are seen in the vacant Houses all over

© Manakavingyan