A Bird Poem by Jahangir Manzar
A Bird
We are born-poor!
Whole world is ours.
We are here today.
There tomorrow.
We make nest,
Push it down,
Remake it.
The hot and cold weather,
Are always our enemy.
Cruel hunter,
Plague is on us,
We go on escaping our self,
From these cruels!
Make our nests,
Place to place!
We are born-poor!
Whole world is ours.
Monday, August 10, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: sad
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7/26/2025 10:57:21 AM # 1.0.0
