What will tommorow hold,
knowledge of pain is learned.
sick yesterday tales are told ,
few olive crowns earned.
I see me as wrath ,
contoured in the seen,
lost in the fight with earth .
Into yearn I lean.
calling this wrath, till tomorrow ends.
let it rain,
put out fire,
make amends
~ Tarak Bhattacharjee
India
Thought provoking poetry?
Fantastic poetry
Awsm
Smoothly Amazing
Very well written Tarak.