Each word is a new poem... each breath a new rhyme... Each smile a new beginning... each day a blessing sublime!

Babri

It was Sunday and its Friday this time...
I fear the hymns and blubbers alike..
My grandpa sat on his chair that day,
with his eyes not mystic but saddened, it may...
it was a sunny Sunday on a chilly December day...
he looked shattered and shattered all the way,
A thud that day torched hearts and shattered rest,
His secular soul did had days of unrest,
It shamed his threaded holy pious
And distant many of his skull cap pals,
The dance of holy chants when wrenched,
It followed and in memories it has been itched,
The day still fresh to me in my thoughts...
What followed was a death and mourning of all sorts,
Few said LALA's birth place has been freed,
It did nothing but just sowed a seed,
Seed of distrust and animosity all the way,
Exception to my love but happy for him...
Not being here for another poisonous sway....

1 comment:

R, TGC said...

finally you're back...after almost a month of silence?

And coming to the poem, this is good, especially the last lines. The day sure was horrible, and nothing has changed except a new found hatred and animosity.