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Step by step, cleft by cleft
i rise to meet destination above;
Wind, though, rushes and drags
me down, urge keeps me in move

no crag, no stone at hand
i hold a torrent, oh, its time
all my zeal i put
to conqure its clime

whether I could step up a crag
with strenuous hand and mind
would I ever reach the zenith
or await for me Sysphyisus' fate?

oh, the urge against the flow
lived the agonies in a mo
heaven ward the will
& down ward the drill, would go!
Once had an occasion to meet a great artist Satish Pimple Sir and I was stunned with his beautiful painting. I deeply gazed it. He enquired "what do I get?". I couldn't tell him the exact impression. But I was obessed with it. Later, in the evening I had these lines.
rain deluded, crops failed
at hand, mere grain-less hay
what to do, what to say
hopes ash-burnt, confidence frail

who to blemish the Nature or the Government
that has cunning put our lives on bait

Lost crops, lost all hopes
heart benumbed awaits the hanging rope

No one hears, the chocked dumb voice, how chocked all breaths
sophisticated mocks, merely rampant on strangulating penniless deaths

what i furrowed on arid farm of fate
Is mere awaiting pangs of death?

Miss fit to live, yet drag on
smiles fades, but not the frown
Now, not of others', but of my own vaunts
Hard to evade the soulless tongues’ taunts

poem by Mukund Malve, India (State of Maharashtra)
Though i initially don't want to write a poem on farmers' plight for their agonies and suffering are so intense for these frail words....But somehow this restless 'me' couldnt find ease, so i yelled it out

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