Friday, May 15, 2009


She enters earth’s womb,
And quarries the blocks,
Those build their dreams,
She Deserted.

Her mallet feminine,
Shatters earths
Resistance to change,
She Bored.

Their kids pretend,
Her kids work
Along with her,
She ploughed.

At sun-set, for them,
Gratitude provident
And a see-off,
She buried.

Privileges fixed,
“Special Economic Zones”
The arena named,
She stoned.

1 comment:

Salil Mirashi said...

The pain of the mother connects with the pain of the earth...and produces a rhythm!!....another good piece of work….just take care that u don’t get stuck with the format