The King

The king talks about war
but no longer participates in the action.
He sends soldiers, tanks, missiles, and armaments,
but doesn’t lead from the front anymore.
Kings don’t die in wars these days.

The king preaches nationalism;
enthusiasm fills his subjects.
Like a deck of cards soldiers fall in the trenches,
warriors smolder in destroyed tanks,
and the corpses of the citizens line the streets.
The king is no martyr these days.

The king never feels hunger or thirst;
provisions are never scare in the palace.
People hide in bunkers;
at every sound of a siren they look to the sky for
God, packets of food, and water bottles.

Kings from different lands curse the mad king
but no one brings the war to a halt.
Cities are decimated, reduced to ruins.
The land and its people
Continue to smolder, having sipped blood.
The king remains unmoved by the pain.

The king remains the king.

Born (1952) and raised in tribal reserve of Jhabua, India, Dharm is a Toronto based Author. He writes in Hindi and has seven published books- five collections of satirical essays and two collections of Poetry. He is a columnist for four prestigious journals Chankya Varta, Vishwa gatha, Setu & VishwAa. His works have appeared in prestigious Hindi journals across the world. His poetry in English has been previously published in Poetry Pause, Fresh Voices, Harbinger Asylum, Akshara, Impspired, Piker Press, Scarlet Leaf Review, Dissident Voice, and Setu. He can be reached at and on Facebook: Read other articles by Dharmpal Mahendra, or visit Dharmpal Mahendra's website.