THE FARMER (POEM)
Every morning he goes to the field
Works through out the day,
Hard labour involves his Fantasy
But he is never thrilled.
Mundane existence makes his food
His life is full of sigh ,
In the field with plough he stood,
His is the lot to never forget
the tough reality ,tears to shed
His surrender to the Landlord
Makes his life, his childhood,
His offspring learns the same thing
To surrender the whole energy
To battlefield.
His wife supports his labour
with her own hands
She joins the farmer
Without any hesitation
She is with her husband always
Making it her destination.
Months after months
Years after years
Is covered with the snow of
Harsh winter, poverty and grief.
Domination of the Landlord
Is the breath of their life,
Hard labour, sacrifice,
Their blood is dedicated to work,
The daily life struggle makes their food,
Though they are preparing our livelihood,
Remember how the Irony stood!
The farmer 's last breath occupies
His children's life-
Another Saga of sacrificial days
As if they are the dolls made of clays!
Comments
Post a Comment