Fever Rising by Satish Verma SignUp
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Theme: Life Share This Page
Fever Rising
by Satish Verma
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  What is the thing of poverty,
of frozen pain,
fury under the snow,
between fire and rain?

You come on the surface
to breathe, douse with petrol
and show off a flame. A slum of emotions
burns with rage.

The masses in the garden
play with a fountain. The screams
bloom into a scam. A dead blue peace,
except the tears obscene.

I am in fear. The pillow was used
to choke the enemy.The ripples were
spreading. Wheels were broken. A child
in a womb cries.
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October 27, 2010
More By: Satish Verma
Views: 1093      Comments: 0




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