The Tainted that makes me abhor, The Torn I cringe at The Sick whom I repugn ,The felon I condemn The sinister I ward off, The corrupt I agonize Are the souls of the ones , Oh surprise! I give my assent , On The ballot sheet of mine.
Oh Pathetic me! Do I know not, the weight of this small sheet? Or do I see not The fate of the country that awaits After this ballot sheet of mine, reaches its terminus …
if only I had the prudence ,the insight to tell apart wrong and right But it’s difficult . . . Too difficult to resist The bribe of bliss, though momentary.
So I choose The tainted, the torn The sick, the felon The sinister, the corrupt Again and again . . . On this ballot sheet of mine.
Poet’s Note – It is basically a satirical write-up. Ridicules the routes taken up by the contenders in white’ kurtas’ to boost-up their vote banks, and moreover, the examiners-the people- who allow it to happen!
Blood was in season, on your hands. A staged encounter mauling the clouds. Into a hare, you put the lead with a roar of gun and sun wants his share. Beneath the honours lies the guilt of a ravaged moon.