Crisis by Satish Verma SignUp
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Theme: Life Share This Page
Crisis
by Satish Verma
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  To drill a hope in the drowned soul 
was very difficult, 
winds had blown away 
the talisman. 

Stress was palpable, 
you could tear the weather with empty hands. 
Mists had walked into the houses 
to pick up the burning cheeks. 

Man was playing with nature 
until death time. 
Stones piled up, 
burning tyres on the road. 

Visionaries were celebrating the all blinds 
day, in an echo chamber -
and all the people were standing 
on no-man’s-land for peaceful coexistence.
Share This:
July 26, 2011
More By: Satish Verma
Views: 1165      Comments: 0




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