Oscillation
Seven minutes of terror,
and fourth generation of missiles.
Can they go together ?
And road stops here ?
An honour killing will
ensue ? Do you think so ?
Ethnic hate runs deep in
seeking revenge by remote sensing.
I miss my ego. The poet’s
pride; oscillating between
water and beach. There was no
boat in sight.
Sitting on a rock. I visualize
the firebrand west. Moon was rising.
There was no rhyming in verse or
cascading fall. Any one can climb-
the tree and start throwing down
the ripe mangoes. Was it a harvesting
time of severing the cords.
Satish Verma
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