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Madhav Sarkunde

We are Just Castes

Who are you?

I am Ph.D,
a professor in College.

Shut up! Idiot!
Tell me your name;
your identity

I am an Indian
a citizen of Bharatvarsha.

Bastard!
Don't give me that!
Tell me,
who are you?

Hindu or Musalman?
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I don't Write a Poem

I don't write a poem
but sprinkle my heart
on white papers.

I don't write a poem
but kiss flaming words
on the lips of volcano.

I don't write a poem
but croon a lullaby
for drizzling lids.

I don't write a poem
the poem writes me
and sets me free
from the life engulfed
by mirages.
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Childish Questions

A little child asked
its father, 'Daddy,
why the goddess of justice
ties strip on her eyes? '
Father said, ''Son,
she closes her eyes
to do impartial justice.'

The child asked again
'Daddy, if one can be impartial
by closing one's eyes,
then, why all the blinds
are not appointed as judges? '

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What Is Reality?

Nowadays parents complain
that their children are spoiled
but children did not think so.
What is reality then?
Are children Freewheelers
Or parents want to make them
victims of their own ambitions?

Nowadays schoolteachers complain
that students do not study herd
What is reality after all?
Is teachers'complaint baseless
or students knew that knowledge
has become a purchasable commodity?

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We Give What We Have

Once a lazy drone
asked a wild flower
how it doles out
nectar to all...
foes or friends.

It tried to chide
the meek flower
in degrading tone
and bragged about
the feats of his own-

Regardless, who grabs,
a fallen wretch or a king
I spare not anyone but
give a venomous sting

Then calmly replied
the generous flower:
Friend! You are right!

[...] Read more

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We Give What We Have...

Once a lazy drone
asked a wild flower
how it doles out
nectar to all...
foes or friends.

It tried to chide
the meek flower
in degrading tone
and bragged about
the feats of his own-

Regardless, who grabs,
a fallen wretch or a king
I spare not anyone but
give a venomous sting

Then calmly replied
the generous flower:
Friend! You are right!

[...] Read more

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Can You Expect

Not that being poor
you could not achieve
your goal, if so
Ambedkar, Lincoln and Obama
could not scale the height of success.

My child!
Poverty is not the hurdle
along the way of achievement
instead, lack of our will to win
is the mother of our misfortune.

Success or failure
is nothing but an outcome
of our labor or laziness.

And my child!
Can you expect sweet grapes
from the climber of bitter gourd?

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While Living For Poetry

While living for poetry
the gullible grief grew wise
and the lonely sun of words
found a plea to sing and rise.

While living for poetry
all trivial differences died down
and rainbows in inner skies adored
paths of dreams with kind crown.

While living for poetry
rocky truth came in bloom
rays of contentment burned
completely obstinate gloom.

While living for poetry
the view of vision grew vast
there remained no discrimination
between who is first & who is last.

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When Poetry....

When Poetry is with me
I am the ablest soul on earth
like Hercules or Suryasut Karna
when poetry is not with me
I am just remains of burnt papers.

When poetry blesses me
with its favor of earmark.
I need no other blessing then
recesses of my being overspills
with joy ineffable!

My sky begins to sing songs
of interminable daybreak
I become a gala of pure feelings
suffused with efflorescence of life.

When poetry leaves me alone
dead and decaying leaves of negations
spread over in my talent's garden

[...] Read more

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If I Were Her Dog

Poverty clipped my wings
and left me alone wriggling in pains

I fluttered lot
I muttered lot
I nothing got


I wandered over hills and down dales
holding fast on assurances of heaven
sometimes I caught on thorns and
others; thorns caught on me.

Every day a new sun came to my door
carrying the poor old questions and set
further behind the hills leaving back
the same worries for the day to follow

[...] Read more

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