Poetry

I say to myself, why did not you learn
the ways of life?
The chariot blew up in your face.

Blueberry, blueberry –
they bloom in dark.
How difficult it was to stay normal
human being and speak your lines
carefully.

I will pull my hearse one day
unspoken, unseen.

This mirror has no more trappings.
It is reverted into original glare.
Hang your boots, it says.

I say I am a lobster
in a water tank,
listening to waves;
ready to be boiled,
when idol wants to eat.


Satish Verma