Email Poem

Your IP Address: 216.73.216.167
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
I never knew she was bleeding and pleading,
Until I turned to see the blood in her eyes,
And the agonies tearing her apart.
Rejected and dejected, she gasps for breath, 
Humiliation and intimidation - written all over her gloomy soul,
Like curves of interpenetration of a sphere intersecting a cone. 


Still licking wounds from savagery and ruthlessness,
The last dead body in her hands dropped on the floor,
That was her seven years old son,
The sting and pang of cruelty penetrates my brain,
Leaving me with lasting pains that remain,
Because she had been starving for months,
With oppression stronger than death. 

Her tears were like a river overflowing its banks,
And she asked me,
“Could this be the way God wants it?”
Why am I denied of my rights, for a fair fight?
I sighed deeply, from a kind of mental depletion,
My hurrying thoughts clamored for utterance,
But my heart and lips were full of speechless sorrow.

As the chill of the night crept in from the street,
To all the houses that scattered over the slums like ant-hills,
The sun laid golden-soft over the huddled hills of the West coast,
More gunshots thundered across the neighbourhood,
A thin shrill voice like the cry of an expiring mouse,
was only heard from a very far distance.

She took me to her backyard,
Showed me graves on the ground with monumental inscriptions,
And she said;
There lies my daughter, who was raped to death,
There lies my husband, who stood for justice, 
There lays my son who died in peace keeping,
Can all these valuable bloods be wasted for nothing’s sake?

Surviving schools were dilapidated, 
The past is horrible, the future is uncertain,
The present is life threatening and monstrous,
Prison walls are raised daily in all the provinces, 
The few privileged students in institutions are studying Act of War
‘Casus belli’ 
The economy is dropping as more jobless youths resort to crimes,
Hospitals and the strict streets are getting more congested with dead bodies. 

All these made me to wonder,
If we are all living to die or dying to live,
I still ask, 
Is there a place for the women, their rights and joy in the society?
Because the pains, brutality and humiliation are unbearable, 
Surprisingly, her name was Hope,
But honestly, she was hopeless.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required