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Sankhajit Bhattacharjee Poem 113

Scientific Research Fellow in University of Wisconsin, Milwaukee


Their heads are always held high up in the sky,

their hands always offer flowers to the deities,

their bodies are always covered with saffron,

their foreheads always contain red marks,

their bellies always want gold as food,

their feet are heaven to many,

their eyes always watch the differences,

their ears always listen to the conspiracies,

their lips always speak loudly of their sacrifices,

their noses always smell the foul.

What’s about their skins-

skins of foxes covering the human fleshes!

© 2020 Sankhajit Bhattacharjee


Anupam Mitu from MUMBAI on October 14, 2020:

So much scorn for the materialistic fanatics. Nice poem Sankhajeet. It's the irony of our society. Unfortunately, these foxes flourish ferociously.

John Hansen from Gondwana Land on October 13, 2020:

An interesting viewpoint. Thanks for sharing this poem.

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