Pink City by Satish Verma SignUp
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Theme: Life Share This Page
Pink City
by Satish Verma
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Burnt-out myths in the old city
are stitching the lips of people.
Pink walls smell like blood.

Priest is dumb, hoisting the headless
deity on throne. Marigolds
are soaked in flowing tears.

Innocent wheels riding against blast,
stand still to measure
the half-life of seizures.

Cult was spreading in place,
fingers and cells
Dynasties inheriting
the bleached fathers.

The ages rot under the sculptors.
We walk on water, wordless, sightless
for the thin hope.

Share This:
August 14, 2011
More By: Satish Verma
Views: 1019      Comments: 0




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