Satish Verma Poet I do not know?

Frugality

wanted to send a call to me
sitting in a flowing traffic of life, a sinister,
sadistic happiness to see the disasters

coming home, in triangle of death,
for visitation of a nihilistic visual, the wedding
of taxidermal violence, at scope of frugal

clay, moulding the age of anxiety
because there were enough girls to be raped
and hunger was disconnecting the tribes

in camps, the bunkers were safe haven
for daunting, unremembered prodigal sons;
the vultures were dying daily,

you were outcast, a sleepwalker in dark,
confronting the boundaries of labiate palms



SATISH VERMA

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Denis Joe July 29, 2009 at 2:01 PM When I first read this my thought was that you should be a bit frugal with the adjectives. Well repeated reading proved that wrong. I like the lack of emotion in this poem. You allow the words (particularly the adjectives) to create the feeling in the reader rather than the poet trying to force the issue. That shows a great deal of skill. The use of word sound is good with only ‘frugal’ (deep, serious) and ‘prodigal’ (optimistic) really standing out in a very well flowing narrative.