Satish Verma Poet I do not know?

The Buddha Was Going To Weep

For the fusion of minds
let the long vigil of night begin
for a cultural shock.

Prayer wheels were whirring
furtively.
The Buddha was going to weep.

Imperial march of hundred
thousand boots in fever
wakens the darkness under the milk.

Famished ghost of a town
can foresee the rumbling of
a dark moon behind the trees.

Bullet for bullet
in inner empire.
Gold lips cry at every reason.

Burnt-out shrine will tell a tale.
They were diluting silence of walls,
blood stained by the crash of towers.


SATISH VERMA

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Linda Milgate November 20, 2010 at 12:01 PM Tibet comes to mind while reading your poem. And sadness. Good job. Namaste

Nette Onclaud November 20, 2010 at 10:42 AM superb imagery on shattering of llife's balance, satish... if only people can do a vippasana :) hope you can drop by my page to read my piece called " pensee...", a new form i introduced here... thanks you and namaste! warmest, nette