(Written During The American Attacks On Afghanistan From The Arabian Sea)
O! The heartless callous warriors,
The children of the crowning age,
You do not see the havoc,
For you stand at the distant spot,
More than two thousand miles away,
Planning against the weaponless;
But your lacerating missiles and shells,
Amiss not the targets,
They hail down on us smashing,
Blowing up the houses,
And thatched cottages with their contents,
Let, allow me bury, put in the ground,
My infant grandson that lay motionless,
In the cradle, all shredded, torn up,
Still gripping tight in his hand,
A baby doll with blue eyes and rosy cheeks,
Sprinkled with blood too.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
I have never understood...
how they fail to understand that killing someone's family, razing their home or maiming their brother or child is the opposite of peace. How could such blindness be? how could those lucky to have been born in the crowning age fail the most basic test of being human? A moving poem, and a challenge too. Best RA -
Dramatic, personal, compelling
Technically:
miss for amiss?
Dropping some of the 'and' and 'the' might make the poem even stronger in its impact.
Adding your comment:
