Our Passing Times

by Venkat

Short, shrill
Chirps of little birds
In hollow echoes of our time
Drowned in mountains of silence
Deafened by guiltless crime
Left with no words
Dead by will

Love, open
Last days of elders
Bereft of respect by values
Lost by vulgar vagaries of youth
Dying with memories loose
Neglected borders

Sky azure
Of tender, keen mind
Stolen by thieves of freedom
Buried in hollow rules to enforce
Squelching dreams, stardom
Times unspent, blind
By failure

By thought and deed
Eroded by means to oppress
Sunk by self serving superior feel
Money stashed for a redress
Enveloped by greed
No polity

2 Comments to “Our Passing Times”

  1. Venkat, you have become ‘master’ of the form! A very very good poem which touched me deeply, since I am one of ‘the elders bereft of respect by values lost’ . . . You’re getting to be a better poet with every post! Bravo!

    • Glad you could relate deeply to this and thanks. I have begun to stop looking at being ‘better’ or ‘worse’. I just want to discover something new, something unknown, something never noticed in me as the Sun steps out each day….

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