[Anthology] War Time Poems by Dr.M D Okkund

WAR TIME POEMS

Written by Dr.M D Okkund

-1-

Whoever you see here looks like

Marching to war

Souls dressed in soldiers’ attire

Appear like bombs about to explode

Hundreds of borders

In the bosom’s map

Here we are, all war -bound

-2-

Birds don’t have borders

They fly to countries distant

In search of food, water, air and love

Not bothered by visa or passport

Beings on the ground,

Who share sky and water;

Would they see,

The path of Thathagatha in the wings of birds?

The expanse of Allama in the eyes of the bird?

-3-

Siddhartha became Buddha

Not because he did penance under the banyan tree

But because he crossed the boundary of Kapilavastu

Buddha won’t be, where there are borders

And there is no war where Buddha is.

-4-

At the border, Armies have gathered.

Here, in the village, a soldier’s mother

Is anxious at the sight of the postman

Happy to see him walk past her house

Waits every day, holding her breath

For the arrival of postman

Hopes, with lights in her eyes,

For him to simply pass by.

-5-

The man on the other side is slain

The man on this side is a martyr

For the other side,

The man on their side is a martyr,

And other is slain

It is just that both are dead

-6-

Every soldier’s soul whispers

When he holds the gun and presses the trigger

“You are not my enemy’

But by then, the bullet is out

Fallen on the ground, shot by the bullet

Every soldier’s soul cries

“You are not my enemy”

But by then, life ebbs out.

These borders hide the whisperings of souls.

-7-

The paper vendor seems like a

Terrorist.

Scared to touch the newspaper,

Worse, even to read

The lead stories are always

Of corpses at the border

The Centre photo is always

The one of the bodies of martyrs.

-8-

Borders across the globe are

Killers’ temples

Out there, War is a God.

And warmongers, the devotees.

Raw blood to be sprinkled

For the God of War

The strewn bodies are offerings

At Temples at Borders

The festival of the God of War

The only dream of devotees

A funeral procession for Earth.

-9-

Eagles turn in to vultures

While crossing the borders

They have sharp beaks

To tear out flesh and gorge

Huge wings to fly anywhere they wish

Looking for Flesh

They let blood ooze on the ground.

-10-

On the map

Borders have turned red,

Like canals of blood

Some day, I shall paint them white

-11-

In the dreams of waking hours

Birds don’t fly, flowers don’t blossom

Tottering sun, arises like a leper

Anxious, it’s already morning

Deserted streets

Odor of blood in the air.

 

Dr.M D Okkund

Dharwad

Karnataka

India