Satish Verma Poet ABC

Passion Is a Hurricane

Ending of the thought
does not bring a lull.
It is a sequel beyond 
my reach. An old extrication,
I dig for my roots. 
The forgotten names, 
the unhealing wounds of a doctrine,
a tiny memory of pulsating embryo,
not yet born !

Fear generates a kill. Ferocious movement 
inside the cells slowly,
you become zero without a center.
The tangent skips 
on your surface. Claustrophobia. 
You start breaking the walls.
Fighting anxiety & shame 
a timeless timber without a foliage.

My ignition point is hurt in
the new culture of game.
How we approach the road, 
which smells the death, 
blood or smoke? 
The passion is a hurricane. 
Uproots all the bones, 
shatters all the roots. 
A glory reckons after a while, 
for the election of sorrow.



SATISH VERMA

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Michael Jordan July 30, 2008 at 8:27 PM This is a very captive poem with a great flow - great job - God Bless

James Foulk July 29, 2008 at 9:01 PM a very moving piece of poetry, reading it was a heartfelt poem well wrote.