Media
Daily, it has been my routine, and my way
To receive, read one or more poems
Surely mostly; not always,
I travel on the wings of the words
To depth, of time, and memories, and space
And the life’s offerings; to me.
Today’s is Jay Deshpande’s
Speaking Quietly with Her Brother
And how he threw a rock at her.
I am small, ten is max, maybe eight
And with Yahya, we fight
A bully, I am made, by Mahmood
To run our, grocery shop
Throw a weight I, similar…
Always ashamed, was
In my life, till he died
When I saw the spot
He did not tell anyone.
And my time
With him…lots of fun
Because, we found out
For anger, world is small.
Oh poetry; and poets
Oh my brother
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very nice. Beautifully written. Liked it.
Thank you very much