49. Ode to Woes
By JH Sayyar
1
O Pretty woes where you all day roam!
Like clouds or in search of poor, where
They live, on pathways, or in a poor home,
You know their doors; all footed bare,
You are afraid of rich! As a baby by a devil,
Shout; looking at the exorcist in the lawn,
Teasing them, snatching woes their being
Why you like not the poor ravel!
You are afraid of slut; playing like a fawn,
Catching sight of the lion; all are fleeing
2
Why you spread sobs among our lives?
Or your being just a fiction; no
creations,
Of sighs God created; from where strives,
On earth; increasing the poor’s implications,
I see woes at the palace gate; begging bread,
No place of woe in our palace niche,
Pleasures unknown to woe; palace residents,
Ah! The poor rich use their used shred,
Sold costly among the mass the buyers; rich
Are kept in museum as poor lives in the tents
O woe what I call you, fate or a game,
Tell me what are your parents or brothers?
Where live? In dark and dreary den, Shame,
You always plunder the poor and bothers,
I see fate cries at the city gate, all day,
In shred and tattered clothes cheek and eye,
Sleep near dirt they have a heart and a desire,
The same as you have, O Fate; open eyes today,
See the poor’s child dues due to hunger; Fie!
But O woe, you; slave of the rich; you, I fire!
0 Comments