Who Cares?

Worthy work their way,
Spineless souls scream out their worth,
Robin chirps, “Who cares?”

Haiku @Binita Jha

Peace

Wind whispers softly,

Dusty stories drift away,

Peace settles gently.

Haiku@Binita Jha

Freedom and Dreams

Freedom and dreams poem by Ai should have rhyme scheme and satire

Freedom and Dreams

Freedom came dressed in a silver tie,
Promising wings that could help us fly.
“Dream big!” the billboards proudly scream,
While selling shortcuts to every dream.

The rich build ladders tall and steep,
The poor are told, “Just work, don’t sleep.”
Leaders declare, “You all are free!”
Then taxes air and charges tea.

The students chase a glowing prize,
With sleepy hearts and burning eyes.
They learn of stars, of moonlit skies,
Yet fear one test can end their rise.

A poor dreams beside the drain,
Of a roof to protect from heat,cold and rain.
But every year his hopeful plan
Is trapped inside a payment span.

Freedom laughs from giant screens,
Wrapped in glitter, flags, and jeans.
“Speak your truth!” the people cheer—
As long as no one powerful hears.

Still dreams survive through cracks in stone,
In whispered songs the weak have sown.
For even caged birds softly seem
To build the sky inside a dream.

So guard your hopes though fools may scheme,
And markets try to price each dream.
For freedom’s not what leaders claim—
It lives where heart refuse their chains. 

Secrets

Secrets live in folded drawers

Beneath the socks of ordinary days.

They breathe softly at midnight,

Careful not to wake the truth.

Some hide like winter birds
Inside the hollow ribs of silence,
Their wings beating against the heart
Like rain trapped in a windowpane.

Some secrets grow teeth.
They pace the halls of the mind,
Scratching at locked doors,
Begging the dark to let them out.

People stitch secretsInto their smiles With invisible thread,Hoping no one notices the tear beneath.

Yet secrets are strange travelers:
The longer they stay,
The heavier their footsteps become
Inside the soul.

One day, even the quietest secret
Turns into thunder,
Rolling through the chest
Until the storm finally speaks. 

@Binita Jha