Theft

A marvelous pair
with millions of filtering units
purifies the blood,
excess water and waste
spout out.
On the operation table
divinity turns into greed
stethoscope kisses currencies,
one in the pair
vanishes in the air,
a sure excision.
As the dreams of avarice
deliberately defiling
the wonder of creation
creep into the mind,
a stooping down to homicide,
a conquest and a plunder.
Nearby, sparrows perch on the boughs,
ruffle their feathers against one another,
bunches of grapes like dangling ear-rings
sway slowly in the wind.

by P A NOUSHAD

Other poems of NOUSHAD (122)

Comments (4)

Stillness is where spirituality is resident, our inner ‘noise’ is often the main pollutant that hinders our path to that plane.
............very nice.....enjoyed this beautiful poem..
Wonderfully written! Nice!
words of humility. Nice write