Pride of Valley

by Satish Verma

When the battle lines were drawn,
the only mandate
for the human torpedo was to blow up
the silence of time.

Sick was the death-struck
new born, praise of the ghost of tiger
in the name of glory of green eyes.
The orange moon was absolutely naked;

the snow dripped in a cave to form a cone
and the valley was burning wide.
The bag of charcoal given
to a shephered had turned into gold-

nuggets at home. The vultured sky
was claiming more bodies.
A miracle was swelling the crowd
and the crown was proud of deaths.

22-Jul-2011

More By : Satish Verma

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Comments on this Poem

Frankly speaking i like the lines although i do not follow the meaning exactly.the symbols and images appear good but i want some simpler hints to follow the meaning.awaiting your reply

prafulla
25-Jul-2011 11:16 AM