Treasure Island

Aftab Alam

(15 th April 1967 / , , RANCHI,)

We will make graveyard


Mom, bring the Tom.
Jerry all round here,
How should I read the word?
Jerry killed the alphabet,
This book is dust now.
Mama. Take me there,
I will slide, mom
There, on the kid’s park.
I will glide mom,
No Spike to bark,
Come with me Mom,
Bring home,
One for me,
The Tom, mom,
Wanna to see,
The game of killing,
Wanna to play with
The dead Jerry, mom
Bring the Tom, Mom.
Dead jerry will be buried
At the backyard.
Wanna to make graveyard
Mom, bring me Tom….



(For a Child: Care must be taken and guide them properly)

Submitted: Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, October 08, 2013

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

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

The problem never with the children but the way of bringing up, as we sow so we reap.(My request here it must be recited as child, I wrote on their fashion it will be my pleasure)

Comments about this poem (We will make graveyard by Aftab Alam )

Enter the verification code :

Read all 2 comments »

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. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou

New Poems

  1. SERIOUSLY, Mae Ethan
  2. I stop the waves, Mark Heathcote
  3. I Wake Up, Katy Rotundo
  4. Kira I Care, Michael McParland
  5. Random, Kasey Jessie
  6. The poet Is Tired, Tony Adah
  7. Making Up!, Denis Martindale
  8. I Will Never Be You, Katy Rotundo
  9. True Love, Michael McParland
  10. The Thief, Tony Adah

Poem of the Day

poet Helen Hunt Jackson

The month of carnival of all the year,
When Nature lets the wild earth go its way,
And spend whole seasons on a single day.
The spring-time holds her white and purple dear;
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]