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Poems :  ONE HUNDRED MOONS
Tags: Life  
 
On the battle turfs of a vernacular
hunger, the hikes were killing
the uncertain values. Committing suicide
was a regular feature.

To pay off the debts of a flag.
By using pesticides on unsuspecting
guests of tomorrow.
The clocks were set one century back.

What could be done of an anonymous
terror bomb placed in a lunchbox?
Do we wait for an accident?
Who will open it?

All summer, one hundred moons
I will wash your face
to read the command.
Who had put the stiletto in your hand?

Satish Verma



Satish Verma

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satishverma
Author satishverma
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Date 2012/1/15 0:53:12
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