Satish Verma Poet I do not know?

Valentine

Cajoled for a perfect kill
carnations were ready to jump for creating
a schism between future and past.
Keeping an eye on moon, a bald maiden
blew herself up in howling night
to slay a group of faithfuls.

Irresolvable it seems, a right to weep
for the dead. You don’t care for
living legends. The drones dive to eliminate
a hardened breed; kids run to collect
the regrets. Sky is overcast anointing the
unborn foetuses

Even a temple aches to shift the deity.
The stair collapses. Youths hide behind
kisses of holy books. A shoe is thrown
on the clock.

SATISH VERMA

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James Marshall Goff July 18, 2009 at 7:45 AM so sad, Satish, but so true in some parts of the world, here, we have senseless destruction in the forms of drunk-driving, shootings and the like, its every where these days, thats why I'm goin' campin' w/my daughters in a few wks! up on Lk. Superior, to get away...great write as usual! Satish! jimbo

Sara Kendrick July 18, 2009 at 7:27 AM Interesting. Sara