Poetry

Today gives me an ethernal hurting
of the raging night, my moon had crashed
on the wings of flamingoes

While saying farewell to crying winds of the
creek when waves slapping sideways on crazy
shores of silence, another watchman of sweets.

Impared longing till it starts burning
under the eyes, so I am the priest and I am the god
of wasteland incisible in drifting dust

Of voicelessness on the doors of schizophrenia
in order to stay dane amist the freedom of violence
of uncaught heydays of drag queens in transgender

Era of dragons and quivering flash of tempers
between breasts of hills in a green sky it would
be sleepless mystry of gullible hounds


Satish Verma