Satish Verma Poems
|3761.||The Final Retreat||12/3/2016|
|3762.||………….. Afraid Of Whom?||10/15/2007|
|3763.||Marking The Graves||12/29/2016|
|3764.||‘crossing The Bar' Once Again...||5/25/2008|
|3766.||…… Distant Shores||10/3/2007|
|3767.||A Family Dust||12/23/2009|
|3769.||* The Dead Tiger||7/24/2009|
Turns me on
I will write a poem.
Delirious moon had
picked me up from under the skin.
The safety pin was broken,
now a crowd will disrobe me.
Everytime when my pain makes you cry
oranges are not meant for the sale.
A collegium will stich up the wound.
Once upon a caste the country will go.
• On reading Orange Crush of Simone Muench.
The template had the fault,
I was buried alive.
Brick by brick they erected the cell
I could see only the reflection
of a moon at night
in my glass of water.
During the day sun peeped through the cracks,