The rich- the poor
TITLE OF POEM -
THE "RICH" , THE "POOR ",
STANZA 1 -
With the zenith of art and incredibility,
The supreme artist framed a creature,
With soil,water,fire,air and soul as ingredients,
Made with no prejudices- all made equally,
The creature named itself a "HUMAN",
Whose prudence soon got lost
The dreary desert of foolishness,
The world was darted apart by ,
The thunderbolt of prejudices,
The humanity was ripped into two, by the rifting bridge called "money".
From the boundaries of translucent paradise,
Emerged a dove of pleasure ,
Framing it's way toward the cloud
of luxuries ,
Which were fed by the ocean of pride ,
whose evaporated water of property,
Formed such luxurious clouds.
The dove of pleasure poked the cloud of luxuries ,
With its beak of health to bring ,
The rain of coins on the land.
Some people of greediness ,
Mustered up the rain of coins,
Into their bags and pockets of thirst and lust,
-with the blessings of rainbow of health and wealth .
These people drank the rain of coins ,
Landed over the pool of luxuries and,
Had their hair stood to accessories.
This pool of luxuries when overfed ,
Became the waterfall of beauty and ,
Then into to the ocean of clumsiness,
And at last of its stage into the,
The dark planet of 'black-money'
Such people blessed by the dove of pleasure,
Chuckling with lips of over- satisfaction,
Standing over their feet of honour ,
And floating over cloud of luxuries,
We're called the "RICH".
From the translucent sky of complications,
Emerged a shape revealing itself as,
A crow of affliction drafting it's way,
Against the hallowed mist that
Is contaminating it's "impurity",
Towards the turbulent waters of hunger,
Fed by the perpetual waterfall of corruption,
Flowing down from the ocean of politics.
The crow of affliction stops at the steam of hunger,
Just to dip it's majestic beak of malice,
Into the water, then plunging its wings of crime,
Into the stream of Hunger to draw permanence.
On its way forward, the crow of affliction,
Spread all around the drops of hunger,
From its wings of crime and beak of malice,
Over the vast lands of prosperity as ,
It's moving to it's nest of deceit.
People when fed with drops of hunger ,
Turned their brains of intelligence,
To the brains of extreme idiocy.
Now their heart of indecency pumped out,
The blood of treachery into ,
The blood vessels of immortality,
Mustering up the body of toxicity.
Such people left to die by the crow of affliction,
Whimpering loud out of hunger ,
Diseased with scandalous behaviour to get rid of it,
We're called the "POOR".