Whipping boy of Victorian days. <br />Weeping lonely Silent prays. <br />Lordship has the gift of youth. <br />Dies an rises that uncouth. <br />The lash will pain as it rains. <br />Welts and wheals of those canes. <br />The rending howl is deeper yet, <br />dwells profound an endless fret. <br />Chutes and lutes and em toys, <br />goodies of life for those boys. <br />HE forgets to send me die; <br />be beaten blue at every ploy. <br />Smell of cordite bitter sweet. <br />All the better taken neat. <br />Burn the orchard trample wheat. <br />Smoke em out with searing heat. <br />Distant mumbles turn to grumble, <br />an in time a gun will rumble. <br />Crush a bone and pulp the flesh <br />in time shall geal to steely mesh <br /> <br />(Islamabad) <br />(May 11,2009)<br /><br />saadat tahir<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wilted-blossoms/
