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Theme: Life Share This Page
The Silent Colours
by Satish Verma
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  A mad resurgence of fake locks 
paralyzes the arched doors of the hidden 
walls, where the roses squirm under 
the false kisses of a red moon; 

they came again to police the blinds. 
The mother digs up the charred body of 
her son without singing the praise of 
drifting star, till the scars become green. 

It was the name of ivory grief, you never 
know, when the blue milk turns malignant. 
A hairy loss of heritage from the golden 
heights of slumber. My constant truth 

weeps without shame. This landscape 
does not belong to ashes of broken history 
of man. The delirium of war on laments 
has wiped away the holding lights on shores.
Share This:
March 26, 2011
More By: Satish Verma
Views: 837      Comments: 0




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