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by Ananya S. Guha / August 24th, 2025

Blood drips,
A dream with fighter
Planes orchestrating
A war of another kind.
The world is plunged
Into darkness, all pervading;
A war, blood drips
I can’t see cloudy skies
Any more, only lights,
The computer labs are busy
Blood drips, and sabre rattling
Skies are noisy.
The noise is muted
The Holocaust is coming
Blood drips, children
Are ushered into a new world,
Blood drips, come my love
Make this utopia of a warring
Loving world, fractious but united
In sabre rattling, jet fighting;
Blood drips, soaking deserts,
The children have decided
To fight this long lasting, everlasting
War.

Ananya S Guha lives in Shillong in North East India, where he was born and brought up. He has been writing and publishing his poetry for the last forty years. His poetry has been published in both electronic and print formats such as: Indian Literature, Other Voices, Osprey Journal, Glasgow Review, The Literary Nest, Up The Staircase, Asia Writes, Art Arena, Praxis Online, Muse India, Your One Phone Call, In Between Hangovers, The Peeking Cat Magazine, Post Colonial Text among others. He has also written widely on educational and social matters. He has ten collections of poetry and his poetry has been anthologized in various collections of Indian poetry in English. He holds a doctoral on the novels of William Golding. Read other articles by Ananya S..

This article was posted on Sunday, August 24th, 2025 at 8:00am and is filed under Poetry.