Sunday, February 28, 2010

For the baby

Stones, that fly thick and far
like poisoned arrows in some war
A million rocks to wallop the foe
no kind souls to hear the woe

Stones in drizzle, stones in snow
pale evil mist on each little bough
Noise in alleys, tumult in the village
Stones to scare, stones to pillage

Double edged swords, our bold stones
Beneath all broil the city still moans
Stones that hurt, stones that maim
Fanfaronade without any shame

Slings and canon to pluck the stone
old lake shore, a virgin battle zone
That random shot in some head
aimless bricks and more of red

Rock pigeons on Hazratbal dome
Tiny nests in chimneys, back home
covered in some dark foggy soot
shaken by endless funereal hoot

Princes’ waltz and paupers die
Are peace pastures in the nigh?
Shall we always torch our shawls?
Let's throw some scooped snow balls