I And My Pot Of Rice. Poem by Ponniah Ganeshan

My land with its bells and clocks
And flowers
Is now the forest of unbedding stones
And bullets.

A wilderness where nothing grown
But bullets in blood.

Once I enjoyed a season's sweet
And its happy flowers
It was for a moment
For a moment lasted.

Again in my sky
The clouds soaked in blood
Gathered around me
And commenced its raining
With Deaths, Deaths and Deaths!

A sudden breeze started blowing
Again, my land with its bells
and cloaks and flowers
SMILED
I opened my mouth for the happy flowers.

Then an invasion of Greed and Power
I, now remember my pot of rice
That fed me all along
The city of Peace
Where did they take it?
Promising for a heartiest feast
I walked about the woods
Of every vanished springs.


Let any Spring come and go
Let any Spring come and go

I do not want my land
A forest of bullets
I do not want it on the waste of war
One day shall you see
Only with the cup of poetry
I will find
My pot of rice misplaced.