Post-War Baghdad Poem by Madhav Sarkunde

Watching white convoy rush behind
bloodthirsty missiles on TV screen
my old mother grumbles in griefs:
why, why they spill human blood
her wrenched heart floats on her face

I but sit back and think about
Doves in Baghdad and smirk
black clouds of war over Iraq
symbolize our barbarities galore

I don't care for the hike of Petrol
but worry sick of human blood
being cheapened in such a way
I make a calculation of Alives
uprooted and nests of Doves
reduced to ashes in Baghdad.

Now I see in every child's eyes
mountains of smouldering fire
Every soul wrapped in fire
mothers even greater fire
Help! Help! Leash that fire
or it will turn our world
into a horrible Khandav Van!

Children of Mr. Bush are
on victory spree out there
They don't know really?
The vanquished are more
dangerous than the war itself.
Victory is a time being ceasefire
and defeat, outbreak of an endless war.


(Note: Khandav Van is an imagery from Mahabharata.)