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Sparrow Mar 2
They left to
defend your honor
They left to
defend your shrine
The false promise
of your heaven
In their juvenile minds
Armed with evil
heavier than
their own weight
God,
Tell me why the snow is red
Tell me why my brothers are dead

They left to
defend our mothers
They left to
defend our wives
The passion burns
in their blood
To protect the last child
Shouldered with
the burden that
the uniform dictates
Minister,
Tell me why the snow is red
Tell me why my brothers are dead

There is a strange
turbulence in the air
The wind reeks
of wanton violence
I feel the same rage,
I feel the same pain
I yearn for peace
and risk your hate
With your answer
my mind might change
So,
Tell me why the snow is red
Tell me why my brothers are dead
This is not a political position. This is a humanistic position. I have tried my best not to be misunderstood. So please try your best not to misunderstand me.
Manasvi Garg Feb 17
black
like the color of his hair
when he left home at twenty
like the darkest of nights
he spent counting the grey of the stars
as if stroking the grey
on his mother’s head
b l a c k
like the dress he bought for his daughter
for when he’ll get to see her again
like the gun that adorned his hand
while his body bled
orange
white
blue
green
b l a c k
like the lines on his sister’s face
when the kohl raced with her tears
that spilled out of her eyes
while life spilled out of him
like the son his grandmother got to see-
her flesh and blood
in flesh and in blood
burnt, buried, dead
just ash
b l a c k
like the broken bangles on his wife’s wrist
as she tried to piece his broken body back together
her heart crumbling with grief
while he crumbled away from life
b l a c k
like what once had been red
and colorful
happy
amorous
is nothing but just plain dark
veiling the stars in the casket grey
the sky rests
like the tiny dancers of gold and honor
on his shoulders
confined within a coffin
cuffed in tricolor
but underneath it all
it’s all just plain
black.
Here's to the soldiers who dangle between life and death, day after day, just to keep us civilians safe. Here's to our armies. Here's to their families. Here's to wanting peace, because retaliating with violence only brings more of it.
Daisy Feb 15
I am here now
Amidst the ashes;
Away from the world's mystification.

Do not weep for me now
Remember my sacrifices;
My love, my life for the nation.

They reckon they've won now
They laugh, they celebrate-
Sad! they do not grasp the ramification.

Mother have lost her child now
Holding a grave ache in her heart.
And me- a fallen father for my girl and son!

Will I be avenged now!
Or end up like a long lost memory
Of honor and love for my country?

Will I be avenged!
Or end up as a tool in the game of politics
Between vultures clutching on the opportunity?
Born like other
I also have Mother
i am teacher
i am teacher
some call me call teacher
Some call me cheater
Do u know I also am sweeter....
Some call me weird
But to make your son best
i always tried
To imped evils
from the side of devils....
I saved your sibling from waste
I am the Teacher I never Haste
I never Fuss what money I get
I give u my life and U BET !!!
I nourish your son
When you yourself shun...
Still you treat me like a best !!!!
You Slaughter my Heart and Cook your feast !!
Still never mind
I AM TEACHER
I AM PREACHER....
Teacher  preacher
Shantala Kothare Nov 2018
I feel a simple joy
As I look upon the hills
The kind that uplifts my heart
Without the skiing thrills.

The trees look their best
All dressed in multi-coloured hues
And stretch for miles around
Against skies of brightest blues.

And as I watch the sun,
Rise from the other side;
I see life stirring out,
From where at night it hides.

The sky gets filled with colour:
To a warm tangerine-orange glow;
And my mind is filled with awe,
At this wondrously delightful show.

Some birds have started
Singing their happy whistling tunes;
And will continue with their songs,
Till its way past noon.

There are some that have started
Before the day broke into dawn,
And unite with the melodies
Of those who start later in the morn.

And these very merry sounds
So full of happy cheer
Makes the state of Kashmir,
Our very prized frontier.

The sounds are echoed far and wide
On this mountainous terrain
Over hills and through valleys
They reach below to the plains.

At night it gets all quiet,
Except for the babbling brook
And the occasional hoot of the owl
That startles me from my book.
Hamad May 2018
There has to be some unforgivable sin that I have done,
That God has not let me go back to my homeland even once.

The mountains, the rivers, the clouds, the fresh air,
The beautiful valley, the green pastures are all still there .

Its true I have left my homeland but my homeland has never left me,
When will this curse break, when will I touch that soil again, I plea.

You contemplate about your Beloved too much ‘Hamad’,
Maybe you should put down the wine, the pen, pack your bags and leave everything behind.
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