Tuesday, March 18, 2014

My poems : The frozen ground

Frozen ground and the sky is sullen
 As a naked stuff at a corner was ridden
And hoarse machine cracks our ears
It goes as if dark dust shedding the tears
Yonder the seabirds chant loudly
But the machine sound disturbs the entity
A machine never it stops, does run crazily.
It crashes the bones, the sands, and all stocked pence
Its fuel is our blood, our sweat, the pulse of our veins
Imported machine and it has sharp wheels
Column of smokes it left behind
Veiled our sun to be goopy and tied
Whether it shines from east or north,
Everywhere our desert still foamy at south
Millions of people raise hands denoting sluggishly
But the sun is enclosed looking harshly
Our sun was stolen, perhaps never comes again
Malnutritioned sun complains severe pain
It is as if the American's democracy halts and shy
No progress, but all throats would reply fie!
Some of our sun is driven back
Conflict all day, nonchalant for dark
The prestige of our ancestors' tombs always ask
Never can we shun away to their driven ark
However, the imported machine it has sharp teeth.
But we shall look forward never to look beneath