Satish Verma Poet I do not know?

In Reverse

Just unbound, the death rate.
Red roses had no qualms. Numbers,
unapologetic, they die or commit suicide.
Death had no tombs. One by one they
cross the stream, sinking half, floating half
in a cynic system, heedless, emaciated,
eyes looking beyond, cavernous.

They kiss the doors, will not comeback,
pilgrims of grapes or hemlock, dead on the toes
of rehearsals, dried milk in breasts and pounding
of metaphors. The mankind stripped of songs
drifting from one forest to another.


SATISH VERMA

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Carol Sunshine Brown September 1, 2009 at 8:58 AM Thank you for sharing your excellent poetry with us today Satish. Wishing you the best always in your writing endeavors. Love, Carol

Johnny H. September 1, 2009 at 12:23 AM sad. well written. i mean, seems well written to me and seems sad to me but i don't know much. what i'm tying to say is that i like it. and i don't say that to most of the poems i read. but again i don't know much.