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Flies - 30th August 2022, 04:34 PM

Do not alight on my heart like flies
From the rubbish
Does not bite as rats bite bread,
Rise like swords
From flames of sufferings:
Write on the walls of the universal space
The date when the flies chased away the falcons;
Harken to the burning words
In the hearts of the grain
Lying in fields that call you:
He who bears the plough
on his shoulders and earns his hunger
also earns the right
to appease his hunger
if the sorrow of the crops
that rose this year is not appeased
in the coming year
only fists bearing sickles
will grow in the fields.
I have become your road
Which dreams for your marching footsteps,
All of us must walk through the storm;
A small star cannot make a day –
We want a burning sun.
I shall become your flag and fly in the skies
Come let’s go
But do not alight on my heart
Like flies from the rubbish –
- Seshendra Sharma
Visionary Poet of the Millennium
An Indian poet Prophet
Seshendra Sharma
October 20th, 1927 - May 30th, 2007
eBooks :

Rivers and poets
Are veins and arteries
Of a country.
Rivers flow like poems
For animals, for birds
And for human beings-
The dreams that rivers dream
Bear fruit in the fields
The dreams that poets dream
Bear fruit in the people-
* * * * * *
The sunshine of my thought fell on the word
And its long shadow fell upon the century
Sun was playing with the early morning flowers
Time was frightened at the sight of the martyr-
- Seshendra Sharma
"We are children of a century which has seen revolutions, awakenment of large masses of people over the earth and their emancipation from slavery and colonialism wresting equality from the hands of brute forces and forging links of brotherhood across mankind.
This century has seen peaks of human knowledge; unprecedented intercourse of peoples and
perhaps for the first time saw the world stand on the brink of the dilemma of one world or destruction.
It is a very inspiring century, its achievements are unique.
A poet who is not conscious of this context fails in his existence as poet."
-Seshendra Sharma
(From his introduction to his “Poet’s notebook "THE ARC OF BLOOD" )
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