Speedy vehicles hurriedly rush
People in the bus busily push
School children eagerly rush
All wish to grow rich in sudden push
The fixed Sun alone is free from rush
For buying things there is mad rush
Precious time flies unnoticed in a push
Patients too wait for their turn in rush
Power mongers always push
But the precious Air alone is free from rush
In front of hell too you find heavy rush
As evil at best enjoys immortality
But heaven is forbidden as none to rush
Good ones’ live shorter attain nobility!
A great thought on the contemporary situation, the whole world is in hurry and it looks the things will sink in this rush. Beautiful i rank it 10
I too think everyone's always in such a rush! This is a well written piece' Rekha! Your insightfulness was certainly exemlpified. I give it 10 marks!
To make up a patch in the pasture of our great land Power mongers always push But the precious Air alone is free from rush
thanks for reminding me that the earth is moving, not the sun.........supposedly. i wonder if the sun gets restless staying in one spot.
Wow! This is so true. Everyone's always in a rush. Maybe I'll slow down a bit after reading this one(lol) . Thanks again for such a lovely insight!
jindagi hai bhagati daurti, har koi dudhta hai apna thikana. life is full of race. in the race of life where there is too rush, we have to achieve the goal of life. indeed nice work.
This is so true! A couple of days before I tried to play. In the middle of a busy rushing city life, I slowed myself to feel trees, grass, pigeons insects wind, sun, everything that comes natural.. It was a revelation to become one element of the park.. It felt as I almost stopped the time. It is really interesting to feel the outside rush from a own slowed tempo.. Good poem dear friend and filled with truth!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
there is something comical but very serious about this poem. Your use of imagery is awesome. It beautifies and solifies the whole poem. Great poem tfs.10/10