Oh! Poets of modern era-
Much is written on plenty, plethora,
Write a few lines on the down-trodden,
They shall not be simply forgotten.
Many a time on the corner of the street,
Destitute mother with jumble feet,
Her offspring on lap- weak and sick,
Extending bony begging hand she seeks,
Aren’t you moved at such scene of shame?
Please write an ode on them.
With torn and shabby dress,
With brownish rough tress,
Searching half-eaten bread or toast,
Hungry mouth will relish most,
Picking leftover food from dustbin,
Have you ever seen?
They are also human but without name,
Write an ode, if u please, on them.
I share your distress. poetry as an art of expression must not produce couplets on beauty and love only …A poet must expose the ‘real’ suffering in a ‘unreal’ world in which we r living..from starvation to human scavenger…from state terror to structured chaos … the poets like u must also express ur eloquence on s suffering of displacement in the name of “development”. A “development” whom we all r praising without sense and logic
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