The Broken Pen
Last week, met me on a cross-road
In very poor condition
Lamenting
On the attitude and behavior
Of the present-day humans
Crying badly
The Broken Pen
It was the fate, brought me on the road
Once, I was the blue-eyed
Of my owner
I had written hundreds of pages
In promising ages
Saying, Saying, Saying
The Broken Pen
Those creators and writers had gone,
Who loved, care and adorn me
Now, the generations not interested
In knowledge, in creation and writing
Of unique art, and not care for humanity
Just whispering –
The Broken Pen
I had, you shall see, the coming generation
Fond of false imagination
Fright of reality, neglecting the quality
Absorbed in errors of modernization
Justifying adopted customs and traditions
Highlighting the truth
The Broken Pen
All the truth told, in valor manner being bold
I felt, felt guilt, could not stay more
I picked up the pen and cleaned
With a tissue, dig up the land and buried it
To give the comfort and peace, eternal peace
But it was a blunder of humanity, to bury
The Broken Pen!
Ghammaz Jee
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