Tag Archives: humanity

White Vs Red

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Winter night was young

In the concert hall I was among

Everyone seated in a row so calm

Awaiting moments were so charm

Slowly the heavenly music surge in

Transporting the mood in full swing

All the poems escaped from my clutch

Hugging all musical notes of bunch


Suddenly bullets started flying

With aggression of war planes prying

It torn fleshes with ghastly vengeance

Making bloody fountain of arrogance

Some lucky breathed the last instantly

While some held as hostages constantly

The unlucky ones lay badly wounded

Facing death in the hour of terror bounded


I was one of the few unhurt physically

In world’s eye I am one of obvious lucky.

True!  I escaped the targeted horrid attack

Yet none of the bullets missed the aim or tact.

They pierced aptly many hearts and souls of

And the so called lucky ones like me thereof

Though wounds are invisible and lacks blood stain

But bleeding profusely gifting an eternal pain


I wonder where we are heading..

Whether we are led or misleading?

Does ‘Red’ of blood so tempting

Or ‘White’, the colour of peace so disgusting?


Seamless evolution from human to beast

Massacre of innocence, the revolution of feast.

Masked human’s hobby in ghostly attire

Outburst of carnage but not a satire.


Each moment we live with fear is not life but death

For psychotic to adorn with bullet wreath.

How long peacemaking slogans survive?

And whom we are waiting for us to drive?


Until we dare to re-wire the system with wisdom

Harmony can’t be reign in life’s kingdom..

Until we remain coward and show tolerance

We will witness more tragedies with intolerance.


© Maaya Dev 2016 Jan






Christmas Hymn

Let us weave the wreaths of love
and embellish them with shining stars of amity.
Let us adorn the trees of compassion
and attach in them, the bells of harmony,
sweets of empathy,
baubles of care,
jewels of charity,
garlands of respect,
and trinkets of understanding.
let us bake cakes with cooperation
and season them with joyful intimacy
let us gift each other our affection, support
and true friendship
without discrimination.
Let us bedeck the world with peace
and help it rid of the violence that prevails.
Let us enjoy Christmas, the birth of Christ,
and the rebirth of humanity.

Plight of Mother India

More than half a century has passed.
She silently witnesses chaos amidst life.

Humanity axed, love scarce
Exploitation in, corruption rules
Insanity paves ways for violence
Peace – a luxurious demand
Terrorism the new-found mantra
fake principles of the ruthless.
Youngsters with lost insight
playing with weapons and fire.
Bloodshed gifting an adrenaline rush!

She dies a million deaths daily
Her heart bleeds, pain echoes,
She searches for yet
another Patel, Azad, Bhagat
instilled with sensitivity
who shall fight for justice
with non-violence and unity
to protect her pride and honour.
Her compassionate heart,
earnestly desire for ‘A Womb’,
that makes her feel proud!
Let ‘Utopianism’ be our gift for her

© Maaya Dev

Humanity on its deathbed

Physically bared Stone Age man died,
but the mentally naked modern man is alive,
being stripped of compassion, love and righteousness.
Dirty hair of early man fused into the dust of time,
but the modern man’s dirty thoughts emerged.
Uncultured, illiterate tribes vanished,
and the educated ones felt proud on being unrefined.
evolution of man happened
but humanity still suffers in its cocoon
as if crucified each moment, with each of its breath.
Guns replaced the stones,
and the transformed evils still survive.
Man looking for man’s flesh
wars, murders, rapes, suicides, deaths of refugees,
burglary, exploitation, partiality and pollution….
greed trickling down from the tongues
of men like jackals..
they say they are not wild
and rape women, even men
wearing modern clothes, possessing gadgets
and think they have evolved and developed
they turn a deaf ear to the sighs of mother earth
whenever any Aylan dies, humanity weeps
a sea of tears beside him
and mother earth covers him with her dust
and sings a lullaby while caressing him in her lap.
Do we ourselves kill the angels,
pleasing the horrific devils of society?
Only we have to find the answer.



Stranded mind is dangerous,

Than stranded body,

A curse for the humanity,

Living continuously in the mist,

Stupendous attempts,

Are required to free the soul,

From lusty deeds and gutsy demons,

From solemn nights,

From dreadful dreams,

To paint the altruistic waves,

To color the emphatic heaven,

That sweeps the heart,

That instills hope in hope,

Then this world will shine,

With creativity of the mind,

Of those who are independent,

Of those who are affluent,

With humanity and peace.

A Poet’s Petition !

Whole being is sprouted

with foliage of unwritten verses.

In eloquence vibration of the recitation is heard.

Impregnated passion of the poet pursue

for a benign aesthetic poetic indulgence. 

A poet is forlorn and weighed down by insatiable urge

when unfinished poems trembling on the finger tips.

A poet is euphoric and randomly writes

Silhouette of classics as if doped

to conquer hearts by indelible imprints.


On full moon nights often he inhales the mist of moon

He listens to the whispers of stars and universe.

As a drunkard he gulps the ecstasy of ocean

and sleep serenely on the canopy of sky in aloof.

In spite of a hidden heralded purpose flame

his instinctive longing which is more than

just to saturate mere literary thirst.

The embedded vow of a poet refuses to succumb

Until, he signs his petition with his soulful blood.

For his blessed pen is a tool to voice and to escalate

the quandary of humanity by resigning

the reigning discrimination and injustice.

For he is capable of assimilating the vintage of virtues.

He is bestowed with sensitivity to gasp what his senses grasp

so never miss the unseen woes that drips as pearls of tears.

His ink never dries out of worshiping humanity and justice,

nor he is satisfied of admiring beauty, love, joy and peace.

For he is not only a poet but a destined warrior who fights 

the tyranny of terrorism and razor casteism and racism with pen.

The soul of a poet is stirred whenever a woman’s respect is robbed

so his poetic prowess tries for a paradigm shift to regain her pride.


Before he wraps in his holy wrath                                          

Before any hand tears his loyal petition                                                        

He assures to write and write until the judgement day comes.

It is a poet’s petition he meditated upon every moment.


© Maaya Dev 2015 March


Nore:- March 21st being International Poet’s Day, I wish to dedicate this poem to all poets !



Bruised and Battered

Bruised and battered
Her soul shattered
She lies on the road
Raped in the bus she board
Raped in the cab she board
She lies on the road
Seen and ignored
Tongues moving towards her
In search of a story
Feet moving away
Cutting a figure so sorry
She lies on the road
For hours and hours
Who bothers
Who cares
Everybody fares
Look there, escape away fathers
Of their daughters
See that, they turn around,
Brothers of their sisters
For every step moving away
Humanity runs away
From the world.