I am a housewife from India, mother of two boys, aged 12 and 11.

I have a master’s degree in English literature.
Till my boys were born I worked in various sectors of BPOs as motor claims and health insurance handler and was also content writer for simulation management entrance examination papers in the field of deductive logic and reasoning in English.
I have also worked for a short term in the hospitality industry as a receptionist at a five-star hotel, while awaiting results of my English honours examination.
I love life, like tumbling headfirst into it, and then doing a double take to step back and observe it.
I have written over a thousand poems on genres including, Love, Spirituality, Family, Religion, Current affairs, Human Rights, short stories, humorous pieces, essays as well as funny poems and tales for my children.
I love collecting rocks on my day trips to hills, photographing nature and natural moods. Indulge in taking selfies and decorating them with punk art.
Teaching my children how to tell jokes with a dead pan face for maximum impact.
War Chest
War keeps wounds open Deliberately. Healing is unprofitable. We forget Peace is a calling, A mission. But war is A profession. An industry. War's capital is Civilian blood. Its trophies Loot and ransom For profiteers. Terror is not, Prerogative of terrorists. All of war is. Which war does not terrorise? To keep fear at bay We okay taxes. We okay xenophobia. We play along Hoping our aggression mistaken for assertion Will keep dear ones safe. Purchasing arsenals As if There's a spoil by date. The merchandise of hate Stockpiled against fate. Watching with horror Our armaments. An arm, a leg blown away An eyeball shattering Blood smattering Tanks battering. Souls hovering over Bodies smashed to smithereens War's borders are Death's gates. See the smoke flowering grey smoke Pennants over death's skyline. Your ramparts won't Save your souls Or your poor smashed bodies. Borders were meant to Keep out the other. To stave invasion of Sovereignty, War builds borders To flag off Invasion. The hope chest of bloody trousseau In muddied trenches. War keeps its relics Its provenance is Prehistoric. Cain pitted against Abel In bespoke battles. Hellions of mischief Warmongers co play Endgames to end all games.
Excellent poem, congrats! 🙂
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