Satish Verma

Gold Star - 56,859 Points (5-6-1935)

For Whom The End Waits? - Poem by Satish Verma

Night cries again.

Can I call you midnight
to kill the moon―
and celebrate the dark?

A book and sitting on the
birthmark of a fig tree's thigh
in the temple of a failed god,
I haul up the stains and blues.

Dirty linens. You would
faint in the stale smell of jasmines.
How often you loved to weave
the white beads into a lace for your bun?

Small things. We look
at each other to drift away.
Night lamp struts and flops.
There war no end of pink aches.

Stay aloud. Sky was
listening. Where is the god?

Topic(s) of this poem: poem

Comments about For Whom The End Waits? by Satish Verma

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

Poem Submitted: Friday, June 16, 2017

[Report Error]