Treasure Island

gajanan mishra

(3rd April 19sixty / Tikapali, Patnagarh, Balangir, Odisha, India now at Tapobana, Titilagarh, Odisha, India)

To drink


My life is my life
My life is in water
Water is my life
I am in water
I drink water
To drink is good
To drink water is to live
Life is the part and parcel of water
Pure water pure life perfect life
To drink milk is auspicious
To drink blood is inauspicious
Water milk and blood are
One and the same thing
Noting magic in water
In milk in blood
Water is not pure now
Milk is not available now
Blood blood and blood
Everywhere rage anger
I see here my life is also
Not mine, my dear
Nothing is mine
Everything is yours
This world is Yours
I am here just to suffer
Just to suffer.

Submitted: Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Do you like this poem?
1 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poet's Notes about The Poem

life is here to suffer

Comments about this poem (To drink by gajanan mishra )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe

New Poems

  1. Daaaaad! ! ! !, Damian Murphy
  2. Childhood, Sharan Strange
  3. Hunger, Sharan Strange
  4. Sensitivity, Khairul Ahsan
  5. Your shadow!, fareeha ghafoor
  6. Getting Closer, Brandon J. Moore
  7. The Passing Of Days, Lilly Emery
  8. In/and, William Stobb
  9. Release, William Stobb
  10. Some Purple, William Stobb

Poem of the Day

poet Sara Teasdale

Only in sleep I see their faces,
Children I played with when I was a child,
Louise comes back with her brown hair braided,
Annie with ringlets warm and wild.

...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]