Brothers are Sleeping

Brothers are Sleeping short poem

Brothers are sleeping on the battlefield
so gently..
Brothers are sleeping as if they will never wake,

They are dreaming of a world
where they will have no reason to fight again…

Can you see?
there the pilgrims are passing slowly
praying for a world of glory,
little silhouette of the birds
all across the sky… so far

And then the dust kisses
on the forehead of my brothers
and the angels lead them
to the field full of tulips…
and myriad shadows of the birds
all across the land… so far

The Pilgrims are chasing the dusk,
when the brothers are sleeping … so tired…

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3 Comments on "Brothers are Sleeping"

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Swathi Rao

These times of wars on silly notes.. I had been thinking recently of writing on this thought… Your poem is so meaningful!!

Swathi Rao

Yes Kuntal. Its tragic, that this beautiful opportunity called world, is falling prey to ego battles.


Sleeping Soul

Sleeping Soul short poem

Helping myself wiping my tears , and trying to escape my fears . See myself scared confused clone , delving deeper into something unknown . Nostalgia from another night of no sleep , symptoms of my illness still creep .

Brothers In Arms

Brothers In Arms short poem

We were not blood, but we were brothers. We fought together all these years. And in this war were many others, Facing our great nation’s fears. Now I stand here, home from battle, I do not cry all that often…

Sleeping Buddha

Sleeping Buddha short poem

Happening? you heave a sigh. In peril, mother of peace? Real threat to ice lingam? the Creator? Falling apart? Cat’s claw was not healing. Where the greens will go? The pods, the seeds? Tara, Tara! come again, we are waiting

Other God Was Sleeping

Other God Was Sleeping short poem

Time within the earth hour was lengthening. The other god was sleeping. Becoming was inviting the death while climbing. Frostbite amputates the memory. Ending without beginning, I was asking the seeker to stop searching the answers. The houses were burning

Welcome Home Brothers

Welcome Home Brothers short poem

Taps sound, a shot is fired. An echo reverberates through the valley The splash of tear drops, The sound of muted sobs. Grieving friends and family gather For a man they hardly know. Quite and shy, a family man, For