Satish Verma Poet I do not know?

The End

Lines on forehead are deepening.
No signs of abatement
of fire in our bellies.

The hunger we inherited
is only comforting
the mouthless.

Broken laughs.
Strange bedfellows
chopping off the murals from the lips.

A body rots,
stinks.
Maggots fly.

Negotiations are still on.
Who will dissect the legend
to find the cause of death?

Like a clay model, a soldier breaks.


SATISH VERMA

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Carol Sunshine Brown October 5, 2010 at 11:05 AM A pleasure to read your awesome poetry today Satish. I wish you the best in your endeavors whatever they may be. Love, Carol

Chuck Keys October 5, 2010 at 9:15 AM hunger, war, violence ... not good stuff for anybody. Amen to Peace. thank you, chuck

Linda-Marie Sweetheart October 5, 2010 at 7:26 AM Interesting and intriguing write Satish.. my youngest son is in the military in Iraq so enjoyed this last line.. the hunger situation is a world wide epidemic while the fat cats get fatter luv.. very descriptive and poignant my friend ..luv..