Street Poem by U.K Halder
Street
Drop it like sweat
Over the draught soil
Of infertility,
Streams up the toil.
The Weaks pray
For meal,
Master!
No deal
No commitment
No mercy,
Mere currency, I want.
Ungrateful want more!
No work
No home
Nothing to feed,
Sits on the haunches
Bending heads,
Concrete street, heart and faces passing by.
Monday, August 30, 2021
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
In this pandemic, jobless folks are in great crisis. On the basis of want of job, food, shelter for migrant workers, I pen this poem.
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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9/20/2024 3:37:25 PM # 1.0.0.1119
