Poetry Collection by Prabhat Verma
My poetry is not an opinion expressed. It is a song which either arises from a bleeding wound, or from a smiling face.


Why is it that when gold glitters, morality decays?
Is this world full of barterers
Who can deal anything for a crown or two?
Good to know that atleast some think
Otherwise although the major parts don't.
And in my country it's the public that rules
Although majority always consists of fools.
Minority is a blessing for those fortunate few
Who call themselves different in the name of caste and religion.
My India,
A segmented,
Fragmented and indented India.
In this great democracy
All I can see are elected dictators
And tyrannical bureaucrats
Who are all autocrats running havoc
In the name of equality
And yet, we proudly call ourselves a sovereign,
Socialist democratic republic.
What hypocrisy.
How I ask.
No answer comes to my mind.
But we can't blame them
For we ourselves provide them with knives to slit our own throats.
The elected kings demands and deserve amnesty.
Thank you my fellow countrymen,
The people of India.
May God bless you and me a like……….



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