Impresa
In culture of counterfeits
a snip of intelligent gene
brings the pink tears
for the brown eyes.
A virgin goes for a spade
in the naked sun.
Let me think of polymorphism.
Can there be an answer-
for oblique questions ?
Can this tottering frame live ?
Life can still stalk the death
and stand for the body in the sack ?
Fielding the enquiry about race –
gap, you said the walls
are crumbling. I read the message
half-believing.
As a whole, the glory lives.
Is that true ?
•
The gentle rain falls on
the emaciated Buddha.
Stand out from the controversy.
A foam-born goddess will
counterpoise the questions.
The grievers are sitting
in a circle for the dying moon.
The charred breast of earth
sends the flames.
Who has closed the window
of morning glory ? My blackened
words are traveling fast
to reach the stars. I am
held in a shadow.
Satish Verma
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
