A Plower's Plight Poem by Shamsher Kendal

Toilsomely I plough my farm,
less is earning more is harm.

I prepare and sow the seeds,
an another growth I see the weeds.

starts a long process of raking,
all is perspiring and painstaking,

when I see the drought chance,
in addition the expenses enhance.

when there seems no cloud around,
water is extracted from the ground.

heavy rains and the destructive flood,
all are enough to boil my blood.

even shivering cold and sizzling warm,
have their share to shake my charm.

From the farm I lift the produce,
there are forces waiting to seduce.

things are depressing nothing to exhort,
there remains suicide I have to resort.