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:
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
Siachen,
Where a new red rose blossoms,
When a warrior dies,
And the blood is spilled!
how very brilliantly described! goodie good work!!!
Maybe someday things will change but I'm probably only dreaming.
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