My Father And The Curse Of My Nation Poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma

My Father And The Curse Of My Nation



I heard my heavenly father, last night,
What is your dear nation's curse? Write
And throw it beyond Himalayas, high,
I trembled, collecting my father's sigh.
I can't do, my dear father!
There are many curse but ask my brother.
I am pressed by love and patriotism.
The voice shouted to shun hypnotism.
My father's word in mind,
Generated radiant and vigor in side.
II
Tender little hands of children begging in streets,
Brutal and intoxicated fathers musing in fleets.
Donors giving through misty doors,
This is unknown to fair floors.
For right of freedom, this crowns,
The rogues as lords in Parliament frown.
Tears in eyes, I cried, patriotism means,
Self interest, corruption and rotten dreams.
As honest and intelligent have lost their claim,
Corrupt touching glory and nation in drain.
III
Secular cry breeding fanatic name,
Social justice prospering caste chain,
Tainted rulers dance while enemy conspire,
Brave soldiers are fried on crying pyre,
Jihadi killers dance while innocent cry,
Bloody red hidden in white to rob every pie,
Alter decorated with anarchic laws,
To strangulate the weak and just with claws,
There my father cried in terse,
Shall thou write my nation's curse.
IV
Now modern women have only know,
To cheat hearts with tears false blow
And swap bed every day and night,
Every right is wrong and wrong right.
Framed racial and communal laws,
To bestow trump powers to our foes,
Here wise man choose to silence,
And fools throw tantrums on their glance,
Where unmerited groups laugh at your gate,
Merit is scorned and measured without weight.
V
As you turn your body to side,
Met with foul tradition and conscience tide,
Power shines with mirth deadlier best,
All this I wrote to mourn the test.
This is the curse, open to all to read,
Go with ill doers, my father cried
And furl your flag with sick brewers,
Now cannot be changed a new,
Six decades of ill governance,
Has dried and sucked all fragrance.
VI
With heart sinking and tears in eyes,
Death can change this entire fry,
Otherwise rot will go on,
With all my blessings to you to worn,
Saddened to leave you alone here,
As I cannot be no more with you there,
Left crying in a cruel winter evening,
Twenty years have passed by mourning,
His sudden march to the kingdom of death,
Left we orphaned as a traveler without sheath.
VII
That mighty soul, sober, cool and austere,
Must be shining in some unknown sphere,
Enjoyed his shadow as wise banyan keeps boughs under,
Here he was to beat the storms and not to flounder,
Helping and guiding the masses in need,
With a happy and honest hand indeed,
True servant of Almighty in this world wild,
Goddess Saraswati seated on tongue with message mild,
Such souls loved and needed in ages all abound,
Pray to Master to reincarnate him again around.

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
In memory of my father
(Late) , Shri Shiv Prasad Sharma,
Professor & Head, Deptt of English,
N.R.E.C.College Khurja, Pin.203131
Distt. Bulandshahr, (U.P.) , India.
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