The Iron Gate
Do not remember the names.
Somebody is waiting in the wings.
It is very dark here. The drums
will break the mother’s heart.
The death will not accept the
dew on the grass. She wants tears;
The Buddha is taking a turn
in his sleep. Why is he so restless ?
O, my father, I am watching the
fields turning into piles of ash.
Cannot shut the eyes for a jiffy.
Will you write something for the god ?
Satish Verma
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
