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.


Part I, The Vanquished

No more angry, not disappointed but sad, could have lived more than I have.
Loss has another victim, it was fate, but its not over, for you I shall wait.
I lie upon sand, you stand on feet, waiting upon final moments to be wrapped in a heet.
You are the victor, I am the vanquished, my wait almost over and last breath relinquished.
Another tale of victory now you shall tell, you'll rise from the very place I fell.
We are duellists, great talent we hoard, true warrior clan, we polish our sword.
Blow after blow, what spectacular duel, no rights, no wrongs, we both follow rule.
You fight for you joined your ruler's band while I fight to save my motherland.
I remember past lying below azure skies, wish to see my love before closing my eyes.
I love you but am sorry son, I am your criminal, deserting you to never return.
Shall join you father, see you mother, bless you sister and all the best brother.
And you my enemy and my slayer some day you shall face a better player.
Who will rise while you will fail, you won't live to tell your tale.
Still upon final moments my heart blesses thee.
For you too be having a wife and son, shall return to them when you have won.
My sacrifice shall hold all its grace, when you see your daughter's happy face.

Part II, The Victor

I am desolate, strange emotions I feel, not one happy moment upon victory I steal.
Hard fought win, my every muscle aches, Seeing you fade even my will breaks.
I fear the day I meet your fate. My nemeses leads me to hill's gate.
I fear that place, sound of knell grating, I know its not over and you shall be waiting. We were equal, to you final goodbye I bid, perhaps I valued my life more than you did.
To everyone whom you shall never see, I apologize but they will never forgive me. My brother I am sorry, for you its too late but only one man wins and this is fate.
I survive to live for a few more days, and foster my young in a few more ways, Hoping to live happily with my wife, wish I never have to take another life.
For each life I ended, I cry. Everyday in heat of my sins, I fry.
Peace to was from now be commended, you are lucky your journey has ended.
I would conquer some of the best, carrying burden of sins upon my chest.
I know I have this bettle won, but am sad for your wife and son.
Thank you for giving me another life, another chance to be with my loving wife.
But I know I shall face a better player mayhap your son could be my slayer.


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