"The Silenced Verses"
They wrote with fire upon the page,
In ink of truth, defiance, rage—
With pens like swords they carved the light
Into the corridors of night.
But shadows feared their sacred flame,
So whispered death into their name—
From Chile’s coast to Persia’s land,
They fell by power’s ruthless hand.
Their words were walls, their stanzas shields,
Their silence now the battlefield.
Dictators heard the truth they bled
And answered with a bullet's thread.
In Burma’s jails, behind closed bars,
A poet dreams beneath the stars.
In Russia’s cold, in Gaza’s flame,
The poet dies but leaves a name.
Each stanza slain, each rhyme destroyed,
Leaves in the world a gaping void.
Yet every line they dared to weave
Still echoes through the webs they leave.
You can kill a body, burn a page,
But not the soul or sacred rage.
For every poet laid to rest,
Another rises—truth-possessed.
So mourn them not with tear or tomb—
Let language be their living womb.
And write, and shout, and never cease,
Till verse itself becomes our peace.
( Author unknown).
