The Thirst Of The Leaders Needs Blood-Filled –cup. Poem by Subrata Ray

The Thirst Of The Leaders Needs Blood-Filled –cup.



Where is light?
Where is the light?
Cried the voice.

The joys of senses in a happy home,
Memories scraps on heaps of bones,
Dearest wife, darling mother,
Earnest daughter, anxious father,
Coffee –house friends, romance’s flowers,
All now hang upon the fatal hour.

Where is the light?
Where is the light?
Whines and hits the dreamy brides,
Uncertain are husbands,
And starvation sure,
The statesmen assure Country’s cure.

Where is the son?
Where is the son?
Pathos surges in mother’s moan,
Her son a soldier, -she turns lone.

Tom, Harry and Dick,
Perhaps air the diabolic trick,
Massacre’s explosion from country’s head,
The future pillars are rushed into death-beds.

Where is the light?
They all cried,
Where is their love?
The thirst of the leaders needs blood filled cup.

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Subrata Ray

Subrata Ray

Formerly East Pahistan
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