Stardust
Out of the cleft lip comes
a muffled voice
on the turn of events,
to interrupt a call.
Then the panic rises,
the blood was oozing from the larynx.
The winding mountain path goes to the end
of blessing where the prayer drowns.
What was happening to the golden land?
Did the green worry about the iced peaks,
from where the glaciers take a bend
to enter the valley?
Who was negotiating the winds?
The logic between the stars and moon?
Huge gods were speaking to the men
in black, wearing eye masks on the highest terrains,
not heading my grief.
The dust was crying.
SATISH VERMA
Copyright © Satish Verma | Year Posted 2012
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment