What's that flirts in the distant horizon?
Up from the hottest lands of frozen.
Is the clouds of Grey?
Or is it the darkest of rays?
Is it the canopy that covers hope/
Or is it the breath with which the hearts get chocked?
Oh! Its dull than the dullest of weather -
As if allthe seeds of daekness in it hath gathered -
Its the smoke -
The smoke of destruction,
The smoke of friction,
The smoke of blemishe'd motion.
The smoke - rushing up from the clutter of engines,
The smoke hath engulfed the country regimes,
The smoke in the din and bustle,
The smoke in the parties and dazzles.
Whence peace was settling itself under the sun,
Many, a lot did thump with their guns,
The smoke curved its way out from here and hence -
It did pale and brush the love's fence.
Whence the path was straight
A lot we all did fret,
Now whence the smoke hath filled the bower,
We'll have to climb the curvy hazy stairs up to the heaven's lower.
Copyright © Sonnet Mondal World Poet | Year Posted 2008
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