The Dirge Of The Deluge. Poem by Subrata Ray

The Dirge Of The Deluge.



A foggy face half hides the sun,
The forest-inmates are back a step,
The winking humans lurk for a scope,
An arr owed dove writhes on Hiroshima.

The bell of the church negates the fashion,
The scholars and the philosophers dip in,
The dungeon of their catchy thoughts,
Heaves of empty manipulations seek penance.

‘Be aware puppets of 21st century’, a voice cries,
The slaughtered assurances assume live-ghosts,
An empty Coming takes home, the Indifferent feels,
No yesterdays, no tomorrows, Time withdraws will.

Saturday, August 1, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: reflection
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Subrata Ray

Subrata Ray

Formerly East Pahistan
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