Poems and Poetry

lack of compassion poems

Melissa | A Poem by Roy Pullam

We danced around
That was killing her
She so thin
Her skin transparent
A cough
That rocked her body
A boyfriend
She loved
His indiscretion
Writing a death sentence
For her
She did not cast blame
Accepting her lot
Living with the shame
A family
Unable to accept
Unable to forgive
Citing the Bible
For the scarlet death
She would surely face
God’s punishment
For women
Who lay
Out of marriage
I hugged her gently
Knowing the frailness
The reed
That was her body
The last time
I would see her
Death at 24
Joining the other four
He so callously infected

Sinister | A Poem by Guy Farmer

It’s shocking enough
That the legislation
Is as heartless and
Awful as it is,
Betraying a complete
Lack of compassion or
Even the most basic
Kindness toward others,
But even more terrifying
Is that this many of them
Support it and would
Gleefully do much worse.
The death of empathy,
Replaced with something
Dark, twisted, sinister.

Floods | A Poem by Ananya S. Guha

Despoiled leaves,
memory corners lurk;
the past in a wish list, as echoes
of the wind saunter
in cleavages, who knows
what? Who does or does not?
Kills or kills not,
suddenly flood waters
are stained with red.
We write poems while people, flood-driven in a country, lie in
an anonymous heap. Who cares or cares not?

The So-Called Aristocratic-Marxist Lady | A Poem by Naduni

You, the seemingly white dove
Who advocates egalitarianism
Who calls us ‘friends’
Are a capitalist to the core.
The deepest irony is embedded in the
Faux gold and pearls
On the fingers
That crave for women and ears
Deaf to the hushed murmurs of
The poor, the average, the rural and the ignorant
Spending a whole life on converting
Nonsmoking women
To smokers and heterosexual women
To homosexuals
Ruining married lives under the veil of
You laugh from you throne
Which to the infiltrator is a
Mere wooden chair
Gilt to deceive the gullible
The uneducated, the rural and
The innocent.
The luxury vehicles are appropriated
From others’ permits
Which you never deserved
The driver holds the door open for you
Who is obviously humiliated under my gaze
He doesn’t know I am from the same village
You drag your feeble feet
Too old to stand straight
After a lifetime of self-deceit
Deceit, falsity and a continuous struggle to
Become an elitist
The sign value and the exchange value of your
Beckon me to uncover a secret.
I know their secret
They merely laugh at your foolishness
‘Conspicuous consumption’
In other words.
Where will you end
Even you are unaware
This poem comes to an abrupt end
Symbolic of your own end