Two English Poems
Photo credit: giggs from morguefile.com
Poem 1 – Lamentation of a train.
I’m crying,
When I’m running,
With my pace.
As I’m a tired soul,
None feels my pain,
Except my kind hearted soul.
I value their time.
I always run,
To give them a comfortable journey.
Although I’m a tired soul,
I’m a runner of them
From door to door.
Natural objects follow my race,
When I run with my pace.
They bear no respect,
While they run with my pace.
Except their ugly legs
On my stone like chest.
I never feel such pain,
Before I become a tired soul.
But I’m shocked
And feel pain,
When they rebuke me
For my slow pace.
Poem 2 – Loneliness of a train.
All left me
At the grave hour of night.
Except a hawker
Who has decided to stay with me
For his shelter.
I bid them
With a note of farewell,
Who are going to distant places.
Except a hawker who decided
To stay with me for his shelter.
I forgot all
After hard day’s toil.
And I kissed the night
With the innocent soul,
Who has slept on my tender chest.
***
By – M S Ahas,
