The Dead Soil Poem by Malaya Roses
The Dead Soil
Turn to the peak point of solstice
Feel the wind
Touch the sun
On head to toe
The shadow is under the sole.
Green or dry
It might be a season’s park upon faulty smiles
In our land
We kill the soil.
Now naked
We were undressed by more ambition than blood
Red flushes fast
Stripped at the hall of foolishness
Still our blatant greed never satisfied.
Praising too much would be flattery. I just want to say that the poem was outstanding written well with nice texture and imagery. Kudos to you. I rated it 10. Please read and rate my poem 'Our Indian politicians' on page 1. Best regards Akmal
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/28/2026 8:58:03 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
Your writing is a deep and beautiful as always