Satish Verma

Gold Star - 33,701 Points (5-6-1935)

In Making - Poem by Satish Verma

Spurred the kerosene
to burn the logistics.
I had moved on untrodden snow
of tanned gifts.

There was no tomorrow for me,
living from moment to moment.
The warships
had moved into positions.

Adoring the monotheisn, I still
loved many angels, you were
making many moons for me.
Breathless I was running after gold rings.

Terrible, the bell breaks my ankle
and the anklets emit the trembling
moons. Let us go out on the lake
I have many scores to settle.


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, May 6, 2010



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