Could someone bring back,
My innocent childhood days?
Even today on roadside,
I break stones with hammer,
In the scorching sun.

I also wish to swing,
In the mango orchard,
And run after,
The colorful butterflies

I also wish to enjoy,
The dazzling droplets of rains,
And run a paper boat,
In the rain water.

I too wish to go to school,
So that may paint my dream,
On a piece of paper.
But even today I work in the fields,
Like a child labor

I also wish to fly a purple kite,
And wish to fly high,
Up above the blue sky,
Like a free bird,

Is this my destiny,
That even today on roadside,
My weak back is forced,
To carry loads,
In the chilled nights.

I also wish to make,
Colorful fishes my new friends,
That swim in the river,
Nearby my village

Is this my destiny?
That today in the monsoon,
I’m weaving my dreams,
On the mounds of garbage.

Could someone bring back,
My innocent childhood days?
When today on roadside,
I break stones with hammer,
In the scorching sun

(By Kishan Negi)

We woke up again, the clouds are the same
We rouse again, the soil on the earth is the same
When the night draws we lock and dream
When the day storms we exist as labour machines

For just a dime or a penny,
they work tirelessly,
under the burning
suffocating
scorching
reality.
Sympathies expressed.
Thoughts depressed.
Sins confessed.
As realities come crashing,
dreams crippling
hopes diminishing
it only takes a button,
for all to be forgotten.

It's raining heavily in my laboreour's Germany
it is Sunday and foreigners are quietly resting
with some beer held in their large & full of scars hands

there in our improbable wonders
I come to talk to them
when a bumblebee lost and drenched
also comes on dry ground
marching through our feet

when one of us turns him on his back
he is buzzing he is drying his wings
and I say
"let him go man"

and afterall
"es ist nur ein Waser Probleme"

With torn clothes of poverty
Lasting days of hunger
The stomach remains empty
Locking yearn for education
Standing for a single penny
With a ***** face and bowl
Near academic opening
Sold to rich owners for
Retail Pay to their fathers
To Work for their mistress
Like a machine without salary
Crushing the buds before
They Bloom to become flowers
Forgetting their childhood
Making them a child labour
In houses, shops, hotels and
Making them a begger too
Why it happens in this world
Where children are
The God's greatest gifts !

You know you've been away for long when returning feels wrong
when the rough road you left's a beautiful tarmac
and the roadside lantana Kamara's someone's bed of lilacs
you know it's been ages when you feel nostalgia turning pages
when each bend you negotiate brings tears to your eyes
for the skyline's too storied to have a view of the ranges
so that in disappointment you take deep breaths and sighs
you know an eternity has gone by since you set foot there
when the hugs are a doubt for you wonder if folks still care
when the cute little puppy you left is a scabby old *****
and all you can see are graves at the stead to the alleged old witch
you realise time's past when every view matters
so much so that you open your teary eyes without a twitch
when the grass thatched homesteads are tatters
next to mansions trapped betwixt the so called rich
you tell the beautiful generation's gone when you ain't on foot
when soon as you set foot of what was such a lively place
tears of despondence cascade down your alien face
when you don't know where those who survived relocated
but can at least see tombstones in the distance suffocated
by growing bushes, you try to get close but every plant scratches
and you want a closer look much as every **** itches
you know it's been eons when many gather like a scene of crime
for they don't understand you're mourning for lost time
for those who visited the great beyond in your absence
young and the old attempting to speak English, renaissance
you know it's been a while for unlike the days of the old
only the youth show earnest concern, for they're the bold
they who'll try to explain for the elderly the stranger you're
for them old to realise you're one of their own back from a far
you know you've been away for so long when what was a domicile
is just a piece that couldn't be valued due to many a grave
the revelations hurt yet are given in bits for none's that brave
none's brave enough to relay your family's demise in chronology
and luckily someone has a number you can call thanks to technology,
your youngest sister, left a crying baby now married
realising it's you her feelings are an oxymoron
for she obviously sounds nonchalantly worried
and out of words cause you left her nothing but your stolen crayon
you know you've been away for so long when the moment
you so much prayed for turns into a biting torment
for soon as you walk out your car you become a shoulder to cry on
implying that so much has happened while you were away
yet you're too weakened by changes to keep at bay
where are the rest? you can't help but wonder
how a single decade could mean so much plunder
you know you've been away for so long when you have a novel of sorrow
one which reading could consume more than a tomorrow
when you realise you went to the wrong place or right
for you realise you're on your own childhood bed in the night
the then soft spots feeling so hard while you twist and turn
reminding you of the life you've endured whence you couldn't run
you know you've been  away for a while when you can hardly sleep
but you have room to contemplate the gone decade
laugh, wonder, remember but mostly weep
when you wish you had listened when they said
Arabian money wasn't the picture they painted
you know you've been absent when you wish you could rewind
to erase all those grotesque things they made you do
when you want to move the world back to the unwounded you
the one who wasn't sexually abused and ******* tainted
to save you the excruciating and ugly details
you only realise when deafening's the sound of hails
when you loathe rather than treasure the rain
because all it does is remind you of your pain
when you can't stop for yourself feeling sorry
wishing to speak out to the rest yet too ashamed to tell your story

It is very painful but also true,
The sea is not always clear and the sky not always blue,
The ones you love might not love you too,
The truth you hear are not always true;

The life you adore, you'll one day loose,
The freedom legends fought for, others will misuse,
Daughters properly raised, men will want to abuse,
the innocent and peace makers, courts will accuse;

A path might seem right but leads to destruction,
Many great men unborn expelled by abortion,
Poor and middle class molested by extortion,
possibility of earning little, though working oneself to exhaustion;

But i'll not be sad cause i believe in me,
i'll do what i can but what will be will be,
no matter the challenge, opportunity is an endless sea,
Except i die young, i will be what i want to be.

Labour clenses
I sweat pure evil.
Lifting freight, peddling souls

No thank you
Im not climbing the ranks.
But slowly i begin to grin


I know where i fit
Assosciated with happiness.
Only known by doubt


Through labour i lift my plight