What I Write, They Said
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Not poetry,
What I write,
They said.
Is poetry
There as per
Their sweet will
In forms and
In size,
I asked.
And they have
No word to utter.
Who are they?
In whose world they are?
Good for nothing,
Here we are.
Not able to do anything,
Not able to utter any word,
Not able to see any colour
Not able to recognise any picture,
And we are nothing,
Let us realize I said.
Hearing all
They are silenct.
Who are they?
What they are doing
They know not,
I have to pray again
Pardon them all
They are all ignorant
Even on this day.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş