Saturday, October 27, 2012

Don’t kill me, I pray to thou

The sun is over my heaving breast, about to sink into me
The conch shells I can hear afar, seems they are coming for me
Will this be the night when I die
And will the breeze carry my final sigh
Today is Dashami, the end of a fest
It surely is time to put the Goddess to rest
All these years, I was her grave
But I am now ailing, peace is what I crave
My arms are shrinking, shriveled is my bed
The belly of the country, I have always fed
But the nation’s thirst how will I fulfill
After my own sons go for the kill

Author’s Note: The above poem has been penned to highlight the atrocity committed by humanity on the Ganga river during immersion of Durga idols


  1. thanksssssss revacious......I like the owl in ur picture

  2. Ganges our holy river is now no more holy because we have made her a dump yard, you so brightly echo her sentiments.


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