Poetry isn’t something of old men. It isn’t something restricted to age. The poem Extinction by Aziz Cutleriwala is the proof.
About the poet
I am just an aspirant writer, trying to find some scope for writing, under someone who can help and support me.
Aziz is sixteen years old. You can follow him on Instagram.
About the poem
I wrote this poem because I just watched a documentary on Environmental Degradation and it touched my heart, and I wanted to write something on it.
The plains await to be cropped,
but who will be there to seed them?
The animals await to be grazed,
but who will feed them.
The avains wait to fly high,
but who will be there to lead them?
The carts await to be rushed,
but who will be there to speed them?
The books await to be written,
but who will be there to read them.
The lords await to be worshipped,
but who will there to creed them?
The minerals await to help us,
but who will be there to need them?