Poetry

Dismentaling the menace
very discreetly, the matchmakers
walked over the hurricane to bring
back showers.

Unreachable, moon was smiling
in the blue sky. The maidens were busy
in observing a fast to get a muse.
A million stars went on counting the sins.

Innocent milk will fill up the breasts
of waiting mothers whose children
were coming back from the front. The
shadows were changing with weather.

Inertia of dust turns into a sculptor,
with eyesless sight. A mask falls
from a reclining god.



Satish Verma