FROZEN

Posted: Oct 29, 2009 | Comments: 0 | Views: 9 | Bookmark and Share

After dousing the bride to a nice flame,
in between the howls
there were songs.

On mud path the hoofprints
came out prominently. On bullock carts
they had come for a sit in,

to resist, rebel or kill.
All day the heat, dust & winds
blurred the vision.

Hills between us
to feed the hate.
It is nothing like the good old earth.

The nascent bleed.
Time of non-movement.
Shadows of snow-peaks.

Satish Verma

-----------------------------------------------

FROZEN

After dousing the bride to a nice flame,
in between the howls
there were songs.

On mud path the hoofprints
came out prominently. On bullock carts
they had come for a sit in,

to resist, rebel or kill.
All day the heat, dust & winds
blurred the vision.

Hills between us
to feed the hate.
It is nothing like the good old earth.

The nascent bleed.
Time of non-movement.
Shadows of snow-peaks.

Satish Verma

------------------------------------------------

FROZEN

After dousing the bride to a nice flame,
in between the howls
there were songs.

On mud path the hoofprints
came out prominently. On bullock carts
they had come for a sit in,

to resist, rebel or kill.
All day the heat, dust & winds
blurred the vision.

Hills between us
to feed the hate.
It is nothing like the good old earth.

The nascent bleed.
Time of non-movement.
Shadows of snow-peaks.

Satish Verma

(ArticlesBase SC #1394446)

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    What do I do with the words? They hurt, they flourish without thoughts, destroying the civilities.

    By: Satish Verma l Writing > Poetry l Mar 20, 2010 l Views: 1
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    In the culture of self, and wilting idol who was going to interpret the truth? To resolve the inner conflicts of an ailing mind?

    By: Satish Verma l Writing > Poetry l Mar 20, 2010 l Views: 1
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    Skylit my bright atrium, pumps the future. Which becomes the today righting the wrongs.

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    Blood splatters on walls, on earth. Erstwhile anointed idol lies broken. Thatched roof was burning.

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    My garden cries for no reason. Kindness melts into a rain of twisted petals. And that is it.

    By: Satish Verma l Writing > Poetry l Mar 21, 2010
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    Over the lake moon was hounded out from the dark clouds into the defying blues.Over the lake moon was hounded out from the dark clouds into the defying blues.

    By: Satish Verma l Writing > Poetry l Mar 21, 2010
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    An evening primrose glides, on my rough hands.

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    What do I do with the words? They hurt, they flourish without thoughts, destroying the civilities.

    By: Satish Verma l Writing > Poetry l Mar 20, 2010 l Views: 1
    Satish Verma

    In the culture of self, and wilting idol who was going to interpret the truth? To resolve the inner conflicts of an ailing mind?

    By: Satish Verma l Writing > Poetry l Mar 20, 2010 l Views: 1
    Satish Verma

    Skylit my bright atrium, pumps the future. Which becomes the today righting the wrongs.

    By: Satish Verma l Writing > Poetry l Mar 20, 2010 l Views: 1
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    Blood splatters on walls, on earth. Erstwhile anointed idol lies broken. Thatched roof was burning.

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    Mob hurts you when you were standing alone in a crowd. Bending like blade of grass you accepted the rocks.

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