Festival Turns Curse For A Poor Poem by Tulsi Shrestha

Festival turns curse for a poor
No money to lit candles in door
His children cry for meat & sweet
His income doesn't support to meet.

The flamboyant hue of festival of light
Doesn't peep inside his home to delight.
No stock of blessings left for the poor
Godess of wealth is busy in rich's floor.

Rainbow hues of neighbours ' dresses
Smell spreading from delicious food
He can't purchase them for winter cool
All it, pnched his aching tender heart

He can't stop himself and cries
Tears rolls down from his eyes.
He sought equality and justice
Almighty turned a deaf ear for prestige.

Composed by Tulsi Shrestha
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