Wrath Poem by gitaanjali naidu
Wrath
A man’s wrath is his enemy.
a radiant face turns heinous,
with expressions weird,
sombre appending wrinkles.
His wrath eats him up slowly,
winning bunch of foes,
rather than handful of friends.
Scathe his future and goals,
ruin many pleasant moments of soul.
bequeath hate in the heart of beloved,
ignoring comrades, for life.
Alas! when dead and gone,
none to mourn,
but many to scorn.
certainly wrath is the most dangerous weapon of self destruction....... good write....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 5:07:27 AM # 1.0.0.1119
very well written...right from how it shows up on the face to how in death even we are scorned...lovely flow