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Poems :  What Now
Tags: Life  
 
Locating the perceived
footprints of moon-
in my dark house.

My homegrown precision
brings the weird
calligraphy alive.

Now the execution
begins in rose beds. Out from
nowhere come the missing thumbs.

You kill in broad daylight
all the dreams of
feathery morning. I-

start climbing the
violence to reach the eye
of hate and enmity.

A god a day becomes
my natural love. Would we be
meeting daily?



Satish Verma

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satishverma
Author satishverma
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Poem
Date 2019/3/12 2:16:56
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Recents
The Blame Game Begins
Behind The Brick Walls
In Trembling Smile
The Dead Don't Care
That Was
Random
Morning Hour
Irrelevantly
SUDDENLY SO!
LOCKED DOOR
CRISIS
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