Satish Verma

Gold Star - 53,785 Points (5-6-1935)

Woods Of Craft - Poem by Satish Verma

I woke up clutching the dreams
in deluge of tears.
Night had a brackish taste,
the other side of moon was dark.

One by one the stars were dying
Ideas were no longer candles in gale.
The final thought of liberty demanded
a tribute to partners in revolt.

I wanted a sunlit corner
in the blighted sky of hopes.
Instead of scorched impulse of a mob
injured truth, walking alone.

Give me a bitter fruit of certainty.
I don’t want to loose myself in fogs.
The truth must meet the lie-
alone, in woods of craft.


Comments about Woods Of Craft by Satish Verma

  • Lantz Pierre (2/2/2017 7:09:00 AM)

    At the end of a long alley your silhouette stands in sharp relief. An outline of intimate gestures clothed in moonlight and song. The light behind and the darkness within. I am unsure if you are approaching or in full retreat. (Report)Reply

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  • (10/15/2007 12:01:00 AM)

    realization can be a bitter fruit as well.

    sjg
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Poem Submitted: Sunday, October 14, 2007

Poem Edited: Saturday, April 16, 2011


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