Red Land

A poem which speaks of the “Lal Matir Desh”, or The Land Of the Red Soil, that is my homeland.

Astounded arrays all aloof;

Barefoot brooding boys beckon;

Choirs chanting cyclic calls;

Drab dim daylight drawn.

 

Emoting elegy, essays erode;

Feminine flowers float free;

Great gusts gale galore;

Hidden hymns, haggard history.

 

Instances irradiate illusive incite;

Just jollies jaded judgements;

Keep knowing kneeling kissing;

Lonely, lovely land laments.