By History

This rain makes me think twice

Of green grass and first light

Those shores where my heart lies

All a dream on a cold night

 

And you were there with your black ink

Carving words into stone hills

Which would fall in the sea and sink

As the tigers move in for the kill

 

But by the time they find you

Already you’re far gone

Like the terror was your cue

And a new era is born

 

Revolution- A Poem

I was the freedom the black slave called

I was the land of the Catholic Lord

I was the magpie’s cry of fear

I was the signal that truth was near

I was the Muslims’ voice galore

I was Shakespeare’s sonnet when they said encore

I was the Britishers’ silver mines

So well set upon Indian lines

I was the last run on the very last ball

I was the reason of the Spartans’ fall

I was the garden of the Mughal kings

I was the hope of the lark that sings

I was the dust, the water, the wine

Of all the men, through history, and time

The wheel I was, and firearms too

I was the how, the why and who

I am the flags on the window panes

I am the enemies’ efforts in vain

I am here today, but sit and wait

‘Revolution’ is my name, the world is my bait.