Theme: Life


A cutaneous drip. 
The young moon drinks the dew 
unbuttoning a rose. 

A fierce wind rubs 
against the golden triangle 
to invite a violet sting. 

Eyes armed with green thumbs 
go for a swim in rage. 
The lake unloosens a blood moon. 

No incense will rise 
from the tomb of a lover, 
unless he dies with a style. 

Crossing the gray lines, 
I will not take your lips; 
paralyzing the silver tongs.


More By  :  Satish Verma

Views: 1377     Comments: 0

Name *
Email ID
Comment *
Verification Code*

Can't read? Reload

Please fill the above code for verification.