War Shadow
What is that war when I spit my mind
and bifurcate my body without any edge ?
I understand the rant and rave.
Every day when I meander from one alley to
another in search of cheap but
seared needs, I read the
bloody narration and saw the
innumerable headless figure on walking,
thousand women follow them in widow attire.
I lay my signature inside the cloud custody.
These days I am but a zilch.
Yet I have to walk in diurnal elegy.
I may die but live empty handed.
Consolation
Yes, I am with the war, but the pellet
rattles my heart. I screen inside
the cocoon of my wife’s crust.
I love to tang the oozing blood
but still wheeze when I heed
the trill agony. Have I missed
my bugle for you all?
I am always ready to slump
a colossal flop to my bordering flap.
I cast the price and skew the pain.
Again when I paralyze my hole and door
I stretch my hand to swab the tear,
but mute to say, ‘my child don’t cry
your dad must be back after the brawl.’
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