Satish Verma

Gold Star - 53,721 Points (5-6-1935)

Nostalgia - Poem by Satish Verma

What it was? Unthinkable:
he had become inaudible
to himself.
Intramurality in defiance?
or falling from perfectibility?

The terrible stench;
and toxic fumes rising from decaying passions.
The flesh middle age, blocked arteries
fear of schizophrenia?

Scion of royalty clapping for wheels,
shine and color
hanging by a thread of hate.

This was life without a hero.
Pacers-by caring for posters only
Whisking the sounds away.

Many in the one
nostalgia of shapes.

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Comments about Nostalgia by Satish Verma

  • Lantz Pierre (1/31/2017 8:04:00 AM)

    With the most delicate of knives and forks, of an elven lace graced by strength, she carefully slices a tasty morsel from your eyeball, bringing the dainty meat close she sniffs your sins before she eats. (Report)Reply

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Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

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Poem Submitted: Monday, October 8, 2007

Poem Edited: Thursday, April 14, 2011

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