Road Poems
Obedient Nonsense-Mind
by Igor Vykhovanets
The foolish sheep, from twisted schemes,
Will never break free — luck’s just dreams!
If gluttony’s his only art,
He’s blind and mute, with no true heart.
Born a beast, this sheep’s a fool,
No need for praise for such a tool.
If you hope, you’re just a clown,
In this poor world, it's all “down.”
......
Road
by Hoda Ablan
Barefoot, they run from their past
from hands waving behind a heavy wall
and trembling mothers who anoint themselves with a final tear
They dream
of garlands the earth will weave from the threads of their sweat . . .
and a road paved by God . . .
which no ghosts can close.
Two Roads Crost
by Pijush Biswas
Two roads crost in a point, beside the town
And think I much of home, standing alone
Little I queer about the sun down
But much to see how the roads atone.
I come to know how the police toil long
To protest all vehicles break through
I see, I see the roads go ahead, all among
In vain or late I moan although.
Much to see the time I glued to watch
And every minute I see pin at heart's core
......
Obedient Nonsense-Mind
by Igor Vykhovanets
The foolish sheep, from twisted schemes,
Will never break free — luck’s just dreams!
If gluttony’s his only art,
He’s blind and mute, with no true heart.
Born a beast, this sheep’s a fool,
No need for praise for such a tool.
If you hope, you’re just a clown,
In this poor world, it's all “down.”
......
Two Roads Crost
by Pijush Biswas
Two roads crost in a point, beside the town
And think I much of home, standing alone
Little I queer about the sun down
But much to see how the roads atone.
I come to know how the police toil long
To protest all vehicles break through
I see, I see the roads go ahead, all among
In vain or late I moan although.
Much to see the time I glued to watch
And every minute I see pin at heart's core
......
Road
by Hoda Ablan
Barefoot, they run from their past
from hands waving behind a heavy wall
and trembling mothers who anoint themselves with a final tear
They dream
of garlands the earth will weave from the threads of their sweat . . .
and a road paved by God . . .
which no ghosts can close.
