fun – Fleeting Muse

The numbers game

The numbers are slowly turning to names,
At first distant, some known for their work,
Some were friends of friends,
Some distant relatives that (I) never met,
The stream is becoming a rivulet, soon may become a deluge,
While the enemy silently runs amock,
Powers to be are busy with their games,
The names are still numbers to them,
Their priorities are askew, they don’t feel the pain,
They fear more losing their grip on power,
Elections and campaigns are their fun,,
Till the names at the end of the numbers are their own,
Oh heaven, why have you opened your floodgate so wide,
Have the lost souls abandoned you,
And you are filling your coffers playing the number game?

The second wave, if one can call it that, of COVID-19 has become rampant in India. Government that had become complacent was caught with its pants down. Everyday news from home carries names of people that I knew. Some I had met, some I wanted to, some I haven’t. This poem is just a cry of anguish.

Growing Up

Growing up is no fun,

Before one realizes,

Grows up to

What used to be despised,

And now being resented

For being despised

For the same

That used to be despised,

And the whinings start,

For being misunderstood

Oh, why the world can’t see

What one sees,

Is the world that blind?

Growing up is

Surely no fun.

Fun and Sun: RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge #197

This post is in response to Ronovan’s weekly haiku challenge prompt Fun & Sun

Her days in sun gone
Horses went back home, she didn’t
Villains had their fun

Image result for free photo of asifa of kathua
Photos of Asifa Bano from Google

Note: I was debating if I should include the photo with this post. Everytime I look at that face my heart breaks, tears roll down my eyes. I do not know if there is a God, but if there is one I am not sure why he/she allowed this innocent flower to be sacrificed in such a horrendous way.