Rag Baby
You are wearing
That rag
That You Aunt
Made for you
And what a lucky rag baby
You are
You also have beautiful rags
To wear every single day
And I know that you can only
Wear your rags in
The Summer
In the Winter rag baby
You wear clothes that
Were made for the Winter
Also you aunt made some
Winter clothes for you
Also rag baby
You are loved
By you aunt

war tax is generational
it never ends
eating into every peacetime.

AGE IS....

"Age is what you think you are", they say; and to an extent, with them I even agree;

But in reality, age spares hardly anyone; falls off one day every leaf, from the tree.

Mother Nature, on birth gives us things aplenty n valuable, and that too, almost free

Then it's responsibility ours, to them maintain;   guess I, moderation n balance is the key.

Acceptance comes alongside; in spite of the wrinkles many, try I, to keep alive, that little child, in me.

Armin Dutia Motashaw

voices count, even if ignored,
even in a wilderness,
a voice raised, even to a whisper.

If I wrote poems in my dreams,
then I'd write in black and white

If I wrote poems in my dreams,
then I'd convey messages through silence

If I wrote poems in my dreams.
then my writing would hold knowledge it doesn't when awake

If I wrote poems in my dreams,
then you'd see a side of me that even I don't know

A willow tree
Breathes and shakes
Speaking wisdom in its quakes
A child waits for it to speak
From a story she long awaits.
A willow grove
Listen to the leaves that blow
Whispers from the old,
A child waits,
For a story that she believes.

Eden's overgrown
Adam's gone and
God's been overthrown,

Eve sits on the throne now
with serpents at her feet,
her world almost complete.

a bit like this piece of almost
but not quite done.