But, Buddha Is Dead

Wait! I said to the man running ahead

Looked into his red-bright eyes and said,

A knife in my pocket, a bomb in his hand,

I ask him, 'Can you be a little kind? '

Are you thirsty or these weapons are;

Why to soak ourselves in blood and war'.

I try to make out what's in his head.

He smiles and says, 'But, Buddha is Dead'.

I reciprocate with smile and start,

'We lived in peace centuries after that'

He looked distraught and then snapped,

'Don't act foolish you pale brat;

You know how recently he died,

when they pulled him down at Bamiyan,

second time, they gave him salvation;

For if he was alive, would have cried

I poked, 'we aren't enemies but friends,

throw your weapons and shake hands'.

He winked smiled and then laughed aloud

said without any malice from his side

'I throw my weapon and hug you tight,

but I know you're still hiding a knife'.

by shweta singh

Comments (4)

this same sonnet is on the previous page, also.......
......beautifully penned, loving the style ★
Awesome I like this poem, check mine out
The first sonnet takes it as a given that “From fairest creatures we desire increase”—that is, that we desire beautiful creatures to multiply, in order to preserve their “beauty’s rose” for the world. That way, when the parent dies (“as the riper should by time decease”) , the child might continue its beauty (“His tender heir might bear his memory”) . In the second quatrain, the speaker chides the young man he loves for being too self-absorbed to think of procreation: he is “contracted” to his own “bright eyes, ” and feeds his light with the fuel of his own loveliness. The speaker says that this makes the young man his own unwitting enemy, for it makes “a famine where abundance lies, ” and hoards all the young man’s beauty for himself. In the third quatrain, he argues that the young man may now be beautiful—he is “the world’s fresh ornament / And only herald to the gaudy spring”—but that, in time, his beauty will fade, and he will bury his “content” within his flower’s own bud (that is, he will not pass his beauty on; it will wither with him) . In the couplet, the speaker asks the young man to “pity the world” and reproduce, or else be a glutton who, like the grave, eats the beauty he owes to the whole world.