PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Dawn rekindles flames of hope

In the depleted mantle of our hearts

Dreams are reawakened too

In the break of the hallowed light;



So upon our land

We set our feet

blood flowing and hot

with a renewed vigor and vitality.

And into the cloud-wall

of the future

we walk to work

breaking tonnes of calories

out of our iron hands.



Behold,we are like worker ants

filing to the field; feel our footsteps

Vibrate, echo in the hard

Tumultous road that lead

To the city, to industrial areas,

Our hearts keeping the pace,

Upwardbound every step of the way

Like streams of butter in our dreams!



working feebly-muscles

sweat dripping

from their wrinkled faces

attest to their dedication

to build the world...



~



The enterpreunuor waits in the field,

To feel the sinew of our muscles,

Make his selection, hurdle the select few

To the grey corners like prized bulls

That promise prospects of good profit

In the market; we are the cheap labour

Unable to bargain for better terms

On our skill and sweat.



We are the handy hands for hire,

Muscles that move the wheels of wealth;

We have neither respite

Nor a quiet hour to appraise

Our perpetual dreams of wealth,

Toiling in the

Sweltering savannah sun-



Tearing blocks of stone,

Shifting blocks of stone,

Our blood boiling down like

Dreams of butter in our bread.



But our buttered bread sinks

A hundred fathoms

In a one-dollar bill

For the hands still cracking rocks

Destined for the upmarket

Upcoming mansions.



As the curtain falls at sundown

We will hurry home,

To our suburban shacks;

Notice the dust, red on our feet

In the orange glow of the sun.



~

You who toil in silence,

You who sweat in the hot sun-

I can feel the rapid beating

Of your heart in your breast

As you heave that boulder

Upon your shoulder.

And aloft the house stands

tall like the sky.

A smile of satiety

comes to your lips.

Truelly, you're the wheel

On which the world moves.

Truelly you're the kiln

in which they forge their iron.



In a society sick

with hate and greed

Where profilgate

an` rapacious men're in power

you're the mirror

to reflect the face

of honest man.



~

Do not grow weary!

Do not resign yourself!

Assert your place in this life,

Show them your undiminishing muscle!



I'll write of you till my ink go dry

I'll sing of your varlour till my throat aches-

Even in emminent isolation.



Let's come together, you and i

To assert our needs in the soul of humanity

Untill the day when

On this land

Their soft hands, undistorted in arm-chairs

Will recognize the recompense

Of honest sweat.