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Indian Poets
Look before and beyond
Twin Towers
Weary webs waste vision
Work on mission.
Much blood has blown
Under the bridge of peace
Human bones are its pillars
Constructed by the body
It leads between hell and heaven
Poets will write a verse
On the architect of it
Wow with their rhyme and wit.
Unforgettable 1947
Guru Ram and Rahim
Moved in heaven
As their followers
Chopped into pieces
Scattered across borders
For the vultures to prick its beak
And wild animals to tear
1n 1857
Ten million Indians
Were killed by the ruffians
And tens of thousands were
Strung from trees
On highway and
Village squares-
With the bodies left
To rot and
Stern action threatened
Against any attempt
To take them down
For cremation or burial.
Does it provoke to write an elegy?
The massacre at Jallianwala Bagh
And aerial bombing
And strafing of cities
Our heart does not ache
Where is wail?
Over five million Jews were killed
Between 1939 and 43
As sheep and goats are slaughtered
Historians mind jolted
No more poetry by the poets
Let us crease conscience
Hiroshima and Nagasaki
Ruins and bruises
In the pages of history
Why do you forget or
Think a mystery?
Innocent men and women
Children and the old
Patients and frail
Are killed in Iraq
And Philistine
They are also
Of blood and flesh
Body and soul
Creatures of Almighty.
Is your pen paralyzed
Or lie in wait for accolades?
No wail, sighs, tears
Or cries – your pen bears
What has blindfold
Your vision
Unclear reason!
Has the prejudiced pen
Lost its thunder and lightening spirit?
Oh bravo of bravos!
Architect of the soul
Like to be called
Saints, seers and sages
Redeemer of gloom
Messiah of Love and Peace!
Stir up your conscience of your pen
Or will it sink in tears?
No distinction of caste
Or religion
Barrier of language or region
Never fear of demon
Is it Herculean task
In judging the culprit
To condemn in true spirit?
Money and mansions are meager
Spirit, character, conduct,
And humanistic wisdom is caliber.
Indian poets will rise
To the majestic heights
Spread cosmic lights
With their dazzling
Prophetic words
To give up canons
And swords! ! !
Poet’s pen tells the truth
Praises glory of God
His ink cultivates congenial culture
For His creatures to collocate
His words spread fair feelings
And verses cure sufferings
Dr. Shujaat Hussain
4/771, Friends Colony
Aligarh – 202 002 (U.P.)
India
poem
by
Dr. Shujaat Hussain
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