SATANICK MUKHUTY Poems

That day his very spirit was beckoned,
Rose on his feet he, a hammer in hand,
The universe that inspired so much awe,
Frowned at him on his face, challenged him now.
...

Dead are my eyes on the pyre ablaze,
Comes not even a tear to kiss,
Nor does any tender caress.
...

Drowsy drooping dawn.
Lurking in air,
Smell of dead slumber,
Taste of a sad sleep.
...

Oh! Its the sweet-heart of daylight!

What lush hue,
Of its mellow petals!
...

When did you bloom?
My heart longs to know.
...