Sisyphus Poem by Birbal Singh

Sisyphus

Rating: 5.0


Those that I killed
are buried under the surface.
The surface,
where I roll my boulder up
Everyday.
To keep those dead, dead.
But when at night my boulder
rolls down the slopes of the hill,
breaking the surface
it wakes them.
Dreams, hopes and memories from past.
living deads from the graves
they rise to haunt my sleepless nights.
Everyday,
I roll the stone
Over their graves
to somehow keep them down.

Thursday, March 8, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: dreams
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Jagdish Singh Ramána 02 May 2020

A great satire on ill-politics. The reference to the Legend of Sisyphus.

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Jazib Kamalvi 21 March 2019

Write comment. Nice poetry, Birbal. Read my poem, Love and Iust. Thanks

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Lakhdeep singh 15 March 2018

The world is, of course, nothing but our conception of it.

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