Muffled Sounds Poem by Satish Verma

Muffled Sounds

Rating: 4.5


Like the xenia effect
the terror
was changing the landscape.
Will you become my eyes
in scorched run
to my god?
The sea has turned black
in holy rain. I don't ask
any numbers.


A child weeps inside
me. Hydrophobia. You cannot
go near the water. Stay
away from me. A white
cobra was coming to kiss me.
Religion has become a
toxic drink. I cannot mix my
tears with hate.

The bodies are still
coming in the water.

Sunday, February 5, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Lantz Pierre 10 February 2017

One last train ride. One last turn of the wheel. One last whisp of black smoke from the pyre. The music is invisible. Each note brought respectfully on a bier draped round with crepe to absorb the vibrations. To amplify the womb of creation.

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