Thursday, February 28, 2008

Siachen



White blanket,
That never unveils,
Misty mornings,
That never doffs.

I dont know,
What is more insane,
Forst bitten fingers,
Searching for triggers;
Or, is it the human mind,
Craving for war!

Siachen,
Where a new red rose blossoms,
When a warrior dies,
And the blood is spilled!

--
Jagadeesh
28/o2/2oo8

3 comments:

Dawn....सेहर said...

Thats a sad reality! Yet your poetry is kind of - talks about secrets which are not revealed at all...quite mysterious like you :)
Keep writing
CHeers

Sashu said...

Siachen,
Where a new red rose blossoms,
When a warrior dies,
And the blood is spilled!

how very brilliantly described! goodie good work!!!

alba said...

Maybe someday things will change but I'm probably only dreaming.