Poetry

Coming to cephalic withdrawl,
sharing a deadly delusion,
O my world -
I will not ask,
I will not take back.
For my own liberation, I will set you free.

I am reversing myself,
my battles are still raging.
The flames have reached the tallest branches,
naked in sky:
Verga, why the drops are not going to come down?

Going alone in the woods,
to find the skeletons, in the shades of grief,
a deathless comp of apostates,
to start a revolution, we become
carpenters, carving totems.

The question marks are increasing
in wrinkles. On the shoulders of a lone tree
a black bird sings to an old moon.
Are there any worlds beyond the stars?

Inspired by a poem of famous urdu poet Allama Iqbal


ABHI ISHQ KE IMTIHAN AUR BHE HAIN
SITARON KE AAGAI JAHAN AUR BHE HAIN



Satish Verma