Poezja

You go down in the dry pool
foraging for the political errors,
irisprints, a certain desire of revolt,
any skeleton to identify the victim.
An awful claim, the accuser was becoming accused.

For namesake somebody was dying
unceremoniously for holding tuberculosis.
Dots did not help. Washed and dried curses
went into the background. There was a cease-fire
for sometime but the guns will start blazing
any day on fake pretexts.

The ending of pain or pain of ending begins.
The past was chasing, future uncertain, present
is ugly. Peahen likes the tail not the crown.
Peacock is on tree and on fire. Deflection
of sun marks the beginning of eclipse.

A word falls from a crossword puzzle, makes
a history. Death was in crucible, dualism
will survive. The long beard of a terrorist
becomes brown with age. The train is screeching
to halt. There was a landslide.


Satish Verma