kumar thp

Rookie (03-03-11 / india)

The Lost Soul - Poem by kumar thp

The end is not far,
They shed their bloods,
With no rewards,
Cutting each other,
With the edge of odium,
War to quit a war,
Bewildering the survivors,
Darkening the world,
As never with light,
Bemusing fellows with bigotry,
Playing dice betting thousands lives,
Sawing seeds of lives,
To gain victory,
Disregarding one another leaving brotherhood,
Jeopardizing oneself in the cost of life,
Wild as beast, no burial for them,
The abhor in their eyes,
Stand to face the death,
What their antiques taught,
Are not hereafter,
Fright in their eyes, the virtuous,
Just a creature of few days,
This they call peace,
Being disparate the ubiquitous survivors,
Who is the foe – the human,
Whose bloods are same as they have?
Whom to be castigated,
The one who don't holds the arm of envy,
Ablazing other and beguiling self,
Is this the gaiety they get?
Who is there to grieve for them,
To give valiancy if they are not for the verity,
The narrow bed waiting for them,
Is that their destination,
Men becoming Frankenstein,
Forgetting their creator,
He never wished for these,
The world to go beyond,
Fighting to reign,
Ignoble they are, glorifying the war,
Sequestering for death,
In the vale of life,
The wounds they bears,
The throe inside them,
Given by their brothers,
Not with love but antipathy,
Woe of the mothers for their sons,
Who left their breaths,
Not for the martyrdom,
For the prejudice,
Whom to be venerated,
Who is there to win?
The hate…. the abhorrence..


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Poem Submitted: Sunday, December 4, 2011



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