Wheat Plants
Like soft green grasses we have grown,
Less than halve we have our self shown;
Our heads happily swaying in the air,
Physique painting fields in green color;
At the irrigation of the poor farmer,
We bloom a smile brim-filling in splendor;
Thanking him for tending us,
Feeding us; freeing us from clutches;
Like school-going children we sway,
Feeling free; yet we carefully keep away;
From sadness of the past and present,
Smiling and swaying and waving around;
Let sun shine hard or the moon soft,
Let the fog fall thick or snow shower oft;
Let untimely rain our naked body wet,
Let dewdrops in secret our shabbiness set;
Termites, aphid, weevil, beetle and moths,
Like social enemies let our cells swath;
Storms or tempests or hurricanes severe,
Let blow hard on us as though many a spear;
Goats graze on us; cows and buffalo too,
Blue bulls, let, bring the worst of woe;
We’ll be never shaken or feel forsaken,
As our roots, in the mother earth, are waken;
Our convictions, like our roots, are firm,
To feed the farmer and his home kingdom;
Where his kids, like us, are growing,
And, like us, in joy and sadness glowing;
And to the wide world where the hungry,
Are waiting for grains to live poverty-free...
07 December 2021
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment