Theme: Life

On the Breast of Flames

by Satish Verma
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Dismembering the wreath,
he went on celebrating his own demise.
Shadow had become a white shroud.
He was spitting blood, when slugs,
hit him from behind.
Nobody remembered his name
We had been dividing the roofs.
My moon and my sky.
I feel my eyes have turned into marbles.
Castaway I float on conscience,
with blemishes, doomed muscle.
Sun and water were baffled.
Raged against the invisible walls
I was breaking my knuckles.
Nobody knows, who will outbid whom
I am lying low, to rise one day like sphinx,
on the breast of flames.
 

08-May-2012

More By  :  Satish Verma

Views: 1095     Comments: 0


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