Ananthan K P is a writer based in Kerala and he loves to write poems as well as articles.
[ultimate_heading main_heading=”Poems by Ananthan K P – Issue.XXXV : December 2017 ” main_heading_color=”#1e73be” sub_heading_color=”#8224e3″ spacer=”line_with_icon” spacer_position=”bottom” line_style=”dotted” line_height=”1″ line_color=”#1e73be” icon_type=”custom” icon_img=”id^48|url^http://ashvamegh.net/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/Ashvamegh-ICO.jpg|caption^null|alt^Ashvamegh Journal Icon|title^Ashvamegh ICO|description^null” img_width=”48″ main_heading_style=”font-weight:bold;” main_heading_font_size=”desktop:34px;” line_width=”3″ margin_design_tab_text=””]the world and the might…[/ultimate_heading]
World War III
I
Here it comes and here it goes.
No.
Not yet.
Nor has it begun,
Or has it?
Nor has it died.
Millions died, yet no one hurt
or were they born? yet they rot.
Who started it all?
Germany?
Many many
And what they got?
A plate of cake, that the boys cut
into pieces as they pleased
and what the poor baker got
was a knock on the head.
What’s that clatter?
Oh, that’s nothing,
just a heap of bones they left,
for dogs to play.
Look out for Him, they say,
He has his matchbox
to light when its dark.
Cheer up, my boy!
Oh come on, It’s nothing
Nothing’s gonna trouble you
And nothing ever has
Just look back
What’s it dear?
Where are you…
Where are the people?
Nobody left?
Ah, here is one and one there
but where?
No sir, there is no one here,
nor had been!
II
Ghostly shadows creep the streets
Dark fumes rise to fill the air,
Shrieking silence pierce the souls
And poison burst out everywhere.
What sin? What curse? What evil spell
Caused this deathly plight of man?
Ruthless malice, and quenchless thirst
Or age-old vices born with man.
Or that ancient hour of curse,
Regal eve of mortal cheers,
Forbidden fruit of exotic wild,
With smell of saffron, pepper and blood.
How many battles in greed for more,
Helpless bloodshed for some more,
Hearts still panted for a little more
Until a final blast left nothing more.
It’s all a bustle ever to be heard,
Welding, drilling de-constructing,
Endless flights of men and women
With fruits and flesh, frozen to death.
Vicious typhoons crossover lands,
Restless nights with ever haunting glare,
Smiling faces turn fierce,
And soothing glances soon coarse.
All this strife, O what for!
Is this life? better is death,
Whirling whirling, there is no escape,
Deep in dark trenches of time.
Move, ye soldiers, do move on
Till this battle if ever ends.
And leave this old man, turns renounced
Plodding homeward weak and wan.
What is life? What this world?
Where is the home? oh where me?
Noone’s here, nor had been.
III
World War III: world is a war; let
Them war, my limbs are still and strength exhaust.
“Oh brave old soldier, what has befallen thee?
This strange reluctance whence did come in thee?
World is here, but where is war?
War is here, but where the world?
Worlds are three, and wars are too
When worlds are one, wars are none.”
Where? my God! where on earth am I?
“Where all wars and worlds converge,
The greatest of wars ever fought”
Oh how do I kill these men for all I see
Are friends, my masters, kinsmen, and dear ones!
“Lo! noone kills, nor are killed, and no lay war is this.
No crude violence, and dire deceit, for this war is for peace.
Behold this light, this open door!
Not all men do get this chance.
Leave these burdens, this unrest
In me thou shalt take refuge.
All three worlds I’ll show thee in a handful of mud.
Come with me, the world is one and always good.”
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