Indian Political Jamboree

Reshma Parvez*

Bengalore, May 5, 2014 (Alochonaa):

There’s a face on TV and a face in the paper,
A face supposed to be the country shaper.
A minister won with lakhs of votes,
Talking to people clearing his throat
Telling them those words magical
Promises of all sorts, in tones theatrical.
To make the country a perfect paradise
With words full of enchanting lies.
Switch off the TV and go for a walk
You see the beggars and youth talk
Of disappointment and failures,
Of the poor’s unanswered prayers
Unemployment, corruption and law disruption
Crime, pollution, resources’ exhaustion
Hoarding wealth in coffers personal,
Treating lives as things commercial.
Time for elections, out comes the politician
With palms joined assures with conviction
Streets are cleaned and government active
Trying his best seeming quite attractive
An epitome of people’s servant
Hiding his mean motive looking observant
Changing the moods, influencing the vote banks
I know whom to choose Mr, “No thanks!”

*Reshma Parvez writes from Bangalore, India. She is an educationist and a thinker. She writes poems in Hindi, Urdu and English on sensitive, heartfelt issues. She also writes essays, short stories and anecdotes.

White Stripes

Albaab Habib

Dhaka, May 5, 2014 (Alochonaa):  The spirit of being young and bold is short lived. Time passes. We age. And left are memories of days gone by which could have been better utilized. White strips are the images of road marking that we pass as we move forward. It resembles the spirit of adventure and the longing to discovery oneself in new ways from places, thoughts and experiences that we come across while we still have the will to explore.

Just an empty road

White walls
Silence all around
Broken by distant footsteps.
Yellow lights
As they spread their rays
Through the leaves
The wind breaks
My breath it takes.
As the seconds tick by
Never to return
I know that its time well spent.
Peaceful
Calm
No matter what tomorrow brings
I know I won’t repent.
Jubilant souls
Sing of better days.
If this tarmac could speak
The layers of stories it could share
Would surely be worth a hear.
Not now
Not tonight
Come sunrise
I’ll have my own story to write.

*Albaab Habib works for social business development and is also a freelance writer.

** Alochonaa.com is not responsible for views expressed in these poems. These poems are not necessarily representative of Alochonaa.com’s view.