Authored By Abhishek Mishra:
With the chains my wings are bound
Far above,above the grounds.
I am tortured by the noisy sounds
From next door these barking hounds
Play the music, play the music
Each night I feel so sick
To listen to these blaring songs
Which speak no good but lots of wrong
But in the cobwebs of city life
I choose to live not the knife
For I have kids, and a lovely wife
For whom my mind and hands strive
All i have is a hand to work
And a busy brain with no spark
All is a monotonous routine
And no fun is in the scene
When i travel the whole world
And sit at home feeling knarled
Perhaps it is my daughter’s kiss
That fills the space of all i miss
Of all the moments a dad has lost
All at a men’s cost
And under a layer of dust
Lies buried a husband’s love and lust
Does the world ever think of us
Think of a men’s loss
And of its unspoken cause
That so simply women’s tears does
Sometimes i move to places
Where each word ceases
And there i shout with all my will
Perhaps that is how my wounded heart chills
And this is my latest wound
From next door these party sounds
And a crazy father thinks looking at ground
Would my kids be like the next door hounds
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Riju Shorey Sharma
said:
 |
... In .Seneca (Seneca the Elder) words......." What was hard to suffer is sweet to remember." so suffering is part of life in any form..that person is strong who comes out as a winner |
