Poem: Mother's Wrath

Oh! Egotistic, brutal creature
Will you ever return my green saplings

who faced your tyranny and torture

and those, which were killed?

Or should I call it a sacrifice 

on which your tears are forging 

behind the concrete pillars and edifice 

and in our souvenir, the graves you build.

You squandered all my waters,
 choked the pure with chemicals and cadavers 

and now you rely on these self-made gutters.

How can you be proud of your guild?

Smoked toxicants through gigantic canals,

Pierced my lungs and left me unfit for breathing

I say, cure the reeks from those pipes and funnels

And count for me, the countless holes you drilled.

Or should I call it a war 

and awaken another cataclysmic uproar,

which the raging earth and furious seas shall avenge

for the man-made void, too costly to be filled.   

Oh! Egotistic, brutal creature
Will you ever return my green saplings?

Written Under 'The Nine Flavors'
Flavor: Anger/fury (Raudra Rasa)

Your entries are welcomed:

-Ashish