Dying red leaves were
ready for a blitzkrieg. The spectre
of blood river returns suddenly.
The consistent failure
brings the dewy tears. Tell me--was it
writing on the threadbare body of pain.
Ah a dust song comes
from a comet's tail. A thunderstorm
has a hole. It is the eye of the grim reaper.
YOU ARE READING
Satish Verma Poems
PoetrySatish Verma is ferociously original. You feel resentment, outrage and violence, cannot pin it down but wonderfully spin your brain. Satish has the greatest sensibility which sweetly exploits the delicacies of human conflicts. You are taken aback. T...