Why - Poem by Satish Verma
For a messenger of lies
I lay down the script.
A kick starts the game.
I am the only visitor to the
gallery. Kamasutra suicide displayed
was a way of expression
of a revolt against honour
killing of your own daughters
whose bodies were found in the canal.
The tall sacred walls of home
made kilns, where you empty your sixpence
traditions on the name of native justice.
A sightless vista opens before the
inward eye. I take hold of a brush
and wipe out the faces.
Comments about Why by Satish Verma
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You