all despots create an unfounded rage,
the public eats from this free-handed rage.
blood flows through my land of undoubted hate,
all crops deluged by this unbounded rage.
the veiled villain is but a hounded lie,
we are revealed by our well-sounded rage.
these faultlines bring forth the confounded truth,
we all run on a radar-clouded rage.
who do we blame for these crowdfunded wrongs?
what ‘worth‘ do you know of (dis)counted rage?
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© Anmol Arora
A short ghazal written with a heavy heart, encapsulating certain components like matlaa, radif, qaafiyaa, and maqtaa. Linking it up with dVerse Poetry Form challenge, hosted by Gay Reiser Cannon.
More ghazals: your love took all with it but this sweet pain and i wait at a lost November’s altar
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