Poetry Talk

New post from Being_oasis

Mighty Men

Peeping through the window,
Running in the wild I saw,
My younger self
Just look handsome he was
A boy of simple bones and flesh
With nothing to impress
Just his sheer innocence

Basking in the glorious sun
Living his life
Under shady comfy trees
In a forest called child
With fairies by his side

Then on a single day the sun lost its shine
The fairies, all went blind
The boy was confused
For this was the first time he did not know
What he has to do?
The mighty men arrived
The boy ran for his life

They all went after him
And he sat in his car
The closest to his life
As it would into turn into anything
He likes or dislikes.
He drove through the growing forest
Shooting lasers to their mortar

As his laser started increasing
Pinching mighty men,
Piercing their weapons
They came with all their strength
Thrashing the poor boy
As he sat with his broken friend
Ah! The poor broken friend

The mighty men took the boy inside their aging den
Schooled him till the day he learned
No objection to the men’s word
No questions out of syllabus
And then he was released.

A shattered man in the wild fields
Waiting to unite,
With his love, his life
His friend of old time
Which was still lying
In the forest called child
O’ poor broken friend
O’ imagination wide open.

:-Mohammad Owais
(St. Francis’ College)

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