My Poetry


Shades of green and of gray,

Shades of blue of the bay,

Shades of golden sun

Amidst the valley of the gun

Shades of purple and of pink,

Beneath the veils of Burkha

The soul gets sink..

With each uprising and each revolt

There’s an increase in the death toll.

The eyes just blink with

Each headline of the Newspaper

Delivered in the political corridors

To the household indoors  across the nation.

They say Kashmir is God’s creation

People are trying to seek salvation

Not from the body but the terror which embodies

Of the police and personnel

Of artillery and arsenal

Of religion and rebel.

Shades of death and of Red

Shades of violence and loot

With each passing day

The ground turns into

The death bed of those

Who had weaven vibrant dreams

Of a peaceful Jammu and Kashmir.

Or those who once boasted of

Bright blissful sights

Of ripening apples and roaring winds

But now there’s just the rearing of opposite dreams.

Whatever the present may be

There’s always hope

Like that of Honey bee and the Butterfly

Who wanders in the jungle’s daylight sky.

There’s a hope that the fences will mend

No boundaries and no treaties with pen

Neither pillows of innocents getting wet in vain.

There’s a hope that there shall be a day

From which the India will sparkle and shine

With the light of the divine

When Orange, yellow, violet, Indigo

Will all meet and fade

Into the white light glare.

Mukti jain


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