Ishfaq Yatoo

Count my (In) dependent Miseries

Count my (In) dependent Miseries
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Just pause a while, this 14-15 rendezvous

And count my miseries: 71×365×ENDLESS!

I wish I rub the blood with MY FLAG!

I am a bird locked on that bleak historical document

With the wings clipped in the past,

And the present full of ferocity,

And a future, a phantasmagoria…

My miseries are countless:

Broken promises,

Untimely deaths, unmarked graves, untried prisoners!

I celebrate with funerals, under siege!

Not what you celebrate today and tomorrow…

You have your Jinnahs, Nehrus and Ghandhis

I live in an orphanage,

A by-product of your rage!

Where your never-happening dialogue is my lullaby

And your two flags: a mattress, a quilt

Under which I lay to welcome a sleepless night

Or sometimes a nightmare,

Sometimes a nocturnal raider

To get thrashed by my door

And get knocked myself unconscious!

Your colourful Dawn and The Hindu,

My GK is flooded with bloody tales of bloody Fridays…

Come on for a could-be dialogue!

I am waiting as a waiter

To serve you green apples and saffron,

Still, green is yours, saffron yours,

The red is exhausted much!

Would you ever mind to let me contain my own colours?

Poet can be mailed at

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