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Sankhajit Bhattacharjee Poem 51

Scientific Research Fellow in University of Wisconsin, Milwaukee


History herself wrote-

once a son of Bengal roared

against British rule in anger:

‘I declare an eternal war’.

Piles of exploitation made us curve-

our rights we fail to observe.

Its wings are flying high in space,

deep inside the soil its roots find place.

Your poems raised their voices

to rescue the deprived human races,

to cease forever corporate loots,

to cut its wings and burn its roots.

Your poems inspire me

to fight with my pen and energy,

to make my backbone erect and strong,

for the sake of freedom sing a song.

My respect and honor are for you-

your poems touch my heart like autumn dew;

your struggle, stamina and strength

provide me with an eternal wealth.

© 2020 Sankhajit Bhattacharjee

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