Poetry Here & Now: Shail Agrawal/ Lekhni-May-June 18


Oh! What a lovely war!

No, this is not
a blockbuster movie
on its premiere night
Only a rehearsed stage-play
of our riddled world
and its tormented psyche

Drop the food from the sky
To feed the hungry
Only to bomb them at night
Then bury the dead
With full Pomp and ceremony

Call them friends again and again
in the name of peace
Then shame them in a power game
But these simple ordinary folk
Hungry and starving
May still survive somehow

Why not close your eyes
my tortured hrt
and forget it all
No, certainly not
I’m not talking
about power or money
but a game we adults play
all our lives !

Power-game

‘Soldier Soldier
Thief and scoundrel
Hand’s up or I will shoot
Lie down and surrender.’

I thought —
this was a game
We only played
In our child-hood

We blasted the computer screen
with bullets and rockets
and spilled the blood
of a loony monster
in the ruins of a faraway city
of a graphic buildings
and its gutted towers

Our violence knew no bound
In those gaming arcades
where only joy to be found
was to hit and destroy the target.

But think now ——–
Leading and responsible adults
Politicians and leaders of our world
how can we save and survive it now
World has turned into a big screen
We ordinary people its dotted targets
fanatics in a robot-like deadly mood
playing an endless game of power
with the cursor always in their control!

Out in open

It’s all in black and white
This news of rape and murder
of looting and burning
But those who shoot
and those who die
are both my own
kith and kins.
Unlike our forefathers
Who will accept this guilt
and forfeit the heaven
We sitting smug on the top
Only know ——-
It’s not our turn yet
let the Eden burn
and fire rage
we are armed
with power of number
Sea of people floating aimlessly
who can kill or be killed for us
down there—- in this Jungle.

Life

1,
I cried in joy
believe it or not
On my first success
Tell me, tell me,tell me more
Why shooting stars do fall
Why winning horses can stall
near the finishing lines
He turned and smiled
‘Don’t you know my child
that is our bitter sweet
joke of life’

2.
In that small basin of rainwater
Stars reflecting the hope of sky
watched gently a lonely dandelion
swaying happily in the chilly wind

Thousant ants queuing to carry
a dying cricket on its back
A sumptuous feast—-
or a black death on its bank?

Stuck between these barren rocks
Dwell not my dreamy eyes
Let the nature’s drama unfold
There are yet stories to be told

In a jungle only toughest survive
And winners often lag behind…

Hear a crack in my world

Drip–drip– drown–drown
this closed box of earth and sky
Its jungle of concrete
Oceans of hunger and pain
This rubble and shamble
crushed arms and shattered skulls
Sobs and fear of those broken limbs
stuck again on an empty canvas
Give me a hand, a vision
Not the ashes to paint the picture.

Shail Agrawal

1a, Blackroot Rd
Sutton oldfield
West Midlands
B 74 2QH, UK