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Author Name: Freesatishverma 1 Comments
Date Added: May 17, 2012 23:05:06 Average Score: (Needs 2)
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Type: Unspecified
Category: Inspirational Add To Favorites | Text Only
 
WORDS
Was it sacrilege to reenter the bones of knuckles
thinking of your primrose, a backlash of twigs
in garden of homeless birds, a high-profile
sweep starting a mad rush of blue winds
in the confused landscape of life?

my hills are strewn with bones of eaten, half-cooked
lines of defence, the diplomacy not working to mimic
peace; dead words grip my truths; must you
kill the surgeon who has severed the wrist
of a thief.

I am falling unbidden on Pole Star, the terror
on the wings of flying swans, a child sits
on a chair with enormous head shaking involuntarily
and the cyclone breaking on the dumb noddings
of failing light.

Satish Verma
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Comments:
Comment By: FreeLady Dragonwyck on May 18, 2012 08:15:45 AM Report
Morning, Sir.   I especially liked the second stanza.  I do enjoy your writes; thank you for always sharing here at Creative.
Have a marvelous Weekend, my Dear Friend. 




Lady D





 


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