Submission by Gopal Lahiri SignUp
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Theme: Oppression Share This Page
Submission
by Gopal Lahiri
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A pale moon in a blustery winter night
owes much to the hazy screen of the sky,
a great spinner of the mystery images,
can’t get enough rib and bones to celebrate
the missing tiny minutes and seconds.
Form and tone shift quickly from
a soothing dream to the stark reality
of people drawing knives for survival,
it’s what they have learnt to execute
the reason they never needed to explain.
Love, affection, gratitude, fortune - no never,
they are not in elite class or royal ruins,
it seems important as long as they evade
the lofty claim for real art and beauty and
to yield till the last drop of dirty blood.
Share This:
February 08, 2014
More By: Gopal Lahiri
Views: 674      Comments: 2

Comments on this Poem

Comment Thanks Mohini for your wonderful comments

gopal
02/13/2014 09:28 AM

Comment Dreams are beautiful .... so sad and painful to see the stark reality . This poem is another culmination of masterpiece!!! Thanks for sharing Sir .

Mohini Gurav
02/12/2014 14:08 PM




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