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!