My Conscience

picture: Michael Jastremski

Hours kept ticking away
not knowing what to do
I left home for a little stroll
towards the fountain dew.


I kept wandering till
I came across an old pauper
He was in a pathetic state
and stared at me forever.


We continued conversing with our eyes
I was transfixed upon the spot
Images ruled my mind
of poverty and others rot.


The pain in his eyes said it all
it changed the iron hand of mine
I gave him the Rupee I had held tight
and saw his face shine.

Fate of a Martyr

Picture by: Daniel Steger

The wind floated over the flower-bed,

Till it soothed the soul of the dead,

With flowers the grave was sprinkled,

But with thorns the memory was wrinkled.

The night one thought looked haunted,

For the beauty of nature was looted,

The mournings were done for the warrior,

By the people who seemed kindler.

He who had no narcissism,

Had laid down his life for his nation,

But now there were none to remember his deeds,

Except the ever loving breeze.

For everyone continued to be merry and gay,

They enjoyed his sacrificed fruits that day,

No feelings they had for one so patriotic,

Instead for money they were more frantic.

The homages for the martyr decreased,

People were taken overy by greed,

From this they could not be freed,

For they didn't change their behaviour,

Alas! this turned out to be more deadlier.