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Recently by rabiawsti
Brother
At last they put him down to rest,
A bloodied sheet upon his breast.
You came amidst your motorcade,
Into the room where he was laid.
Locking out your sycophants,
You stood one hour in a trance.
You thought of Aurangzeb, that night,
To shake away your woman's fright;
Of his message to his father:
Blood is of no real matter.
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Latest comments
Posted by viqarm on
Tuesday July 22, 2008 04:38 pm
Sad ...
Posted by Delirium on
Tuesday July 22, 2008 11:45 am
Nice stuff
Posted by rabiawsti on
Tuesday July 22, 2008 11:39 am
thanks a lot! :)
Posted by kashkin on
Tuesday July 22, 2008 10:31 am
beautiful poem
rabiawsti
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