Monday, March 4, 2013

HANDS. EYES. EARS.

Their empty palms wait a token,
Their tear-filled eyes bore,
They beg - in voice broken...
...
Tell me; why do they clench -
These ten fingers of yours,
Offended by the stench?

Say it; why do they turn -
These twin eyes of yours,
Restless and full of scorn?

Pray tell; why do they close -
These twinging ears of yours,
Deaf to the beggar's prose?
...
Your hands are full of bread;
Do you see the ones asking?
Hear, their pleas - full of dread!

2 comments:

  1. This poem is clear home. The last few lines spoke more deeply to me.
    Nice one, bro.

    ReplyDelete

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