Manmohan Acharya

Rookie (20 October 1967 - / Lathang, Jagatsinghpur, Orissa / India)

Mother Earth - Poem by Manmohan Acharya

Mother Earth is very soft
like a blue water lotus.
This Vasumati, source of all wealth,
is like a garden,
surrounded by greenery.
Now, people cut her trees
and root out her hair like plants.
The body of Mother Earth is being tortured.

The transparent flow of the rivers are awarded
with the dresses of dust coatings.
Rivers now are bound
to drink the wine of dust,
vomited by the kaliya snake like pollution.
The life,
like river Yamuna flows
with infinite sorrows
and repays the drops of poison to others.

The smile of cool
and tranquil wind is stolen.
Sulphur, acid and dangerous gases fill air.
The sweet breeze,
flowing on the perfumed flower gardens
and blowing through the mountains is dispelled.

The Mother Earth is being wet
by polluted water
as if she is imprisoned
within the belly of serpent Hamadryad.

Mother Earth is crying
as her green forests are coated by dust layers.
Her own children are uprooting her trees
and plants by axes
like Parasuram had cut the head of his own mother
with an axe.
The prolific green Earth,
who yields the crops,
limitless is now discoloured
and losing fertility.

Mother Earth,
well-known as Gandhavati,
source of fragrance is wearing
the garland of odouring dead,
The wave in the sky
was always in concert of sweet tunes.
Today, it is fastened
by the smokes of the sacrificial- rituals,
performed by the machines.
Now, the beautiful sky,
described by famous poet,
Magha is dust-coated.

The sacred balcony of the sky is locked
by the polluting smoke
and turned to a laboratory for testing the nuclear missiles.
The sky which wore the necklace of twinkling stars
and bore the streams of transparence is becoming dirty.

The humble Mother Earth is perforated
by the arrows of acute desire of man
and wounded.
The soft skin,
covering the womb of the Earth is being
heated by polluted air.
The plants of life are becoming dehydrated
by the ultra violet rays of angry sun.

Mother Nature,
ever satisfying all desires is being shattered
by the number of holes,
dug by the tusks of the cruel boar of so called
O! Partner Bumblebee,
please sing the song of environs.

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Poem Edited: Wednesday, May 4, 2011

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