A Bolted Gate Poem by Showkat Ahmad Wani

He screams for bowl of rice at chained gate
With storms of flights in eyes and rows of yearns
In temper; HE has given progenies
And mate a word of taking grin of life
From smell of death and fist of sun from night
And saffron rose from marsh and take in eyes
An ocean fresh from striking fire to drink,
Their lips have never warmed crumb of bread,
For periods gate is shut, for time he screams,
The only gate he blows at, only cry
He cries, the only hope he aims and screams
With endless looks of hopes to hear his voice
For ages he stands, for ages he cries and waits
And carves faiths new at gate the old.