Satish Verma Poet ABC

Falling

Something impossible would happen.
Truth was too much to operate,
life was easy with fakes.

Neither mortal pain, nor needles
would mend the wounds. The chasm
was deepening.And I stitch the orange lights
with the kisses of green tears.

For the punishment of disjointed commitments,
I dream of the killings
standing on the corpse of faith. The
obscene slogans raise the dust,

of hate crimes. The color of the race
was spreading, on bellies, on stones.
The night will bring spiralling comets
in the sky, burning and emptying
the pure.



SATISH VERMA

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Carol Sunshine Brown January 31, 2012 at 8:49 AM It is exciting to see the replenishment of new poetry here everyday when I log on. I enjoy the diverse poetry so I am never bored by most of what I read. I am happy to have read your poetry this morning Satish. I hope that you might be able to find the time to read some of the other poetry here also. Love, Carol

Jancarl Campi January 31, 2012 at 6:13 AM What a poem! The world is really going to hell in a hand-basket and the devil and his demons are dancing in glee. Jancarl