Parched Lips Poem by Satish Verma
Parched Lips
Nothing to look forward
I return my gifts today.
Completely denuded I will spread out in emptiness.
I was nowhere in the circle of untruths,
the pain was slipping inside
and self-denial took its toll.
Nomad in exile
for the kiss of unknown
wandering in whispering streets.
There was no more remorse.
Saffron was the choice of pathos.
A collective suicide of pledges in the sun!
Parallel grief of desert and wind
offers the plundered toast
I drink to my parched lips.
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4/25/2024 3:05:51 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Either the holy sister or the convicted criminal. Dry crusts of bread, water from a ladle in a bucket. Blood. The course work of darkness can only be learned in light. A candle made from the labors of a bee. The queen will perish having done nothing but conceive.