Poetry

Three Little Birdies

The early breeze is crisp,

The new summer morning is bright.

The farmers return to their fields,

Amidst all, a morbid death knell chimes.

                                       

In a tree, in the woods,

Three birdies held for blasphemy,

They await their execution,

Will they survive the night?

                           

These three little birdies

Got to die

Got to die

Got to die

These three little birdies

Are the meat sacrificed

These three little birdies

Got to die

Got to die

Got to die

                           

The king of the land

Has to ensure it lasts and prospers.

Three little souls

To be beheaded, since the Devil asks for,

Three little souls, for the kingdom, a meagre price.

                           

They never failed to abide

Yet with vengeance in their eyes

Fomented a rebellion, to ensure their lives.

So…

These three little birdies

Got to die

Got to die

Got to die

Thus, these three little birdies

On the altar, to be sacrificed.

These three little birdies

Got to die

Got to die

Got to die.

                           

~Soubhik Chakrabarty

Kolkata, India 

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