Poetry Here & Now: Shail Agrawal/ Lekhni November- December 16

    
Word by Word
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Word by word
Poems are prayers only
Reflections of our
Inner thoughts and desire
Sorrow and fears
Just needed to be expressed
Read and heard
Felt and seen somehow
Like a lonely flower
In an entangled bush
Or a dried up tear
Of a hungry child.
                         
 

Please, Hold Tight

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Once again talks galore
More speeches, more claps
More contracts and few more weapons sold
More dead to fill those news headlines
Like some expelled angel of a sinned sky.

May be it is a Wild west out there
Please hold tight.

Once again
Blue sky turning red and yellow
Then turning black again
in a grave anticipation
World Crumbling and falling
with its rugged mountains
and simmering volcanoes
Of hate and pride.
Yes, It is a wild west out there
Please hold tight! 

Once again
Few more exposed
From their safe heaven
in a race of commercial stride
These saints and sinners
All red and black
Of our economical times.

Once again
These trafficking thoughts
fretting and fuming
Repeat itself again and again
from a tired exhaust
Of a fuming mind
held back
on ever changing   
Traffic-light.

Yes, It is a wild-West out there
Please, hold tight!

Oh! What a lovely war!
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No, this is not
a blockbuster movie
or it’s premiere night
but only a rehearsed stage-play
of our riddled world
and its tormented psyche

Drop some food from the sky
To feed the living 
But bomb them at night
Then bury the dead
With full honour
Pomp and ceremony
Call them friends and allies
in the name of peace
And shame them in a power game

No, certainly not
I’m not talking
about power or money
but a game we adults play
all our lives

Why not
close the eyes my tortured heart
and forget it all
These simple ordinary folk
Hungry and starving
May still somehow survive!

 

 

 Power-game
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‘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 some loony monster
in the ruins of a faraway
Imaginary city of graphic buildings
and its gutted towers

When 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 time
how can we save and survive
This world turned into a big screen now
We ordinary people its dotted targets
fanatics in a robot-like deadly mood 
playing an endless game of power
And the cursor fully in their control !

        Wide-angle
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John shot a man in the street
Got the life in a jail
Tom killed many in a battlefield
is still a hero and noble man.

May be
All men are not a man
Create as much terror to attack a terror
Though both  murders with intent
One is a saint and other branded sinner

Rose is not a rose, or is it a rose only
because it doesn’t complain or react
blooming and swaying happily alike
In a wild forest or a city garden
Or
Is this simply man made morality nothing
But a mirage of a wide-angled-perception? 

 
9-11
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A city ablaze
Ablaze on its tower
of power and wealth
and sky high aspirations
All evaporated in a smoke
Of buried hope
and lost freedom
In a rubble of twisted iron
and melting mortar emotions.

Rising smoke so high
Can see it from the space
All innocent victims
randomly picked
That’s what we heard
But where and how
One begins the count
to identify these foes
from the friends

In this blurry picture
of death and destruction
Ash is the pallet
ash is the canvas
and ash is the only paint

This fear of death
This premature departure
and imminent separation
So forcibly arranged
Yet they cried
in a fading hope 
‘ Any one there ’

Many were there
trying to save them
in a frantic race
of a dying bleak time

Then one last call
one last attempt.
We all knew the worst
but wished for better 

Your mail said
You were not there
But many were there
clutching desperately
To their mobiles
To this life and to this world

Those who came to rescue
and those who could not be rescued
Burning helplessly
in that same parting pain.

 Hear the crack !!
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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.