Onslaught Of Famine Poem by Ratnakar Mandlik

Marathwada, the land of saints
Scanty rains and it's children faint.
Hunger and thurst made them lame.
No use on any one to put it's blame.

Fatigue resisting some more toil
Dejection captivating their souls
With lips parched as the soil,
In nomads 've turned sons of the soil.

With empty stomach and empty pitchers
Are roaming invain for miles together
Men, women and their children
To combat onslaught of the famine.

Poor n weak are the sufferers worst
Ecological imbalance to them hits first.
Sympathy for them is need of the hour
Let us flock to give them from it respite.