By Rafique Farooqi

Blood is bitter nor sweet,
not even sour,
it seems a taste of death,
blended with ashes and dust,
innocents slain with pains,
who is to stop feuds,
fires grow in grasses,
and winds rush through windows,
when newborn screams for life,
sun blazes the sands,
peace glitters like mirage,
man mutates to monster,
when life is bitter than death.

You Might Also Like:

Browse By Category

Select from our entire catalogue of poetry collections:
Click the dropdown below to select from our entire catalogue of poetry collections.