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