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Saturday, May 17, 2008


Across the traffic, amidst the herd,
Imploring to feed their darkened night.
Gashes on their soul and feet, heard,
Shouting and hauling all the attractions at the sight.
Emaciated stomach orate vague words,
Which empowers to assess their hunger,
Compassion and sympathy are of no avail,
They just need a morsel of chapati, whose wail
Is audible and deep resentment lingers
On the minion faced yokel, and fingers
Tremble and shuddered in quest of wealthy alms,
But for damn riches furnish scorn on palms.
Their beloved child has effaced ecstasy,
And could not remember to laugh, curse prophesy.
Ulcers and pains toil hard to check their momentum,
But no other pain can emulate their pain of hunger.
Feeble foundation trembles and stammered the voice,
Ragged clothes, beg in unsophisticated noise.
Non-compassion petty ignore them, does not feel shame,
Dried mouth in search and missed parent's tame.


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