Golden Afternoon Poem by Satish Verma

No questions were taken
from unforgiving sword.

And the dead horse.

A river runs through your body
defining the wet castles.

You look into the eyes of the invader.

The palace intrigues dig in.
You cannot meet the princess.


The inevitability of war looms large.
You will finally know that every
body is mortal. The remains
are meant for the inconceivable.

The scripture versus a blank
page are on the collision course.