that Rafflesia
biggest flower in the world
smell like rotting flesh
on the body of stars
I'm litting up the lantern to wandering
the rivers of the world
flowing along with my pavement
upstairs of heaven
no throne of the peace but a belief
with the ill body of time
I lost the tavern of the youthful earth
sun of the universe true saint of light
nothing but the belief of eyesight
on the mat of Rafflesia I to Andromeda flowers
drops of the honey opening the last door of breath
-03.01.2021 Chattogrm
My little grandson is sincere.
He tells of me: “Grandpa stinks!”;
He tells of me; “Grandpa’s belly is big!”;
“He looks like Santa Claus with his paunch!”;
“And stinks too, he smells bad!”.
So, since he is sincere, I have no choice.
As a flower, I am the huge Rafflesia,
The largest flower in the world,
Which stinks too of rotten fish,
Nauseating and large as me!
But Rafflesia is beautiful to see!
Rafflesia Arnoldii
A rare, parasitic, rootless and leafless plant, Rafflesia arnoldii has the largest known flower in the world.
Below sky that is azure
In Indonesian forest lives corpse flower
Its growth power
Can be felt in its size for it is a meter wide flower
It is red looks like pouring lava volcano with jar inside
It is rare Indonesian forest is only place it will reside
It has crown that looks like abrasive paper with large rocks protruding from the side
The “rocks” look like they were surrounded by lava because its red dyed
Although as a flower it is weird
It is endeared
It lasts only a week after it has first appeared
But what it is just a pale reflection of is to be revered
It is the primordial with no other word being able to match that definition
Like a phantom unveiled by a magician
That flower lives not in forest but it is surreal apparition
But for many it is of hope true beacon
Again the panic grips.
Clones from the frozen cells of rot-scented
rafflesia growing in abundance.
Huge pitchers are swarming the landscape.
You walk into the trap.
The lid falls, blocks the way out
and sharp spikes pierce through you,
so suddenly that you cannot even cry.
The white darkness of the gray ash
is covering the limbs of history.
I am the past, I am the future.
Where do I enter the present?
At threshold they lift their arms.
Neither in-nor-out.
Begging to walls to close in
and let the roofs fall down.
SATISH VERMA
Again the panic grips.
Clones from the frozen cells of rot-scented
rafflesia growing in abundance.
Huge pitchers are swarming the landscape.
You walk into the trap.
The lid falls, blocks the way out
and sharp spikes pierce through you,
so suddenly that you cannot even cry.
The white darkness of the gray ash
is covering the limbs of history.
I am the past, I am the future.
Where do I enter the present?
At threshold they lift their arms.
Neither in-nor-out.
Begging to walls to close in
and let the roofs fall down.
SATISH VERMA
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