Poetry

Are you sleeping with hate?
I wanted to know, does it have a meaning?
For we human beings, any equals in plants and animals?

There was this audacious betrayal of a brute force
to behead a beautiful lass, a scion of fine race.
The baby king was still sleeping in his tomb.

Tut, we were talking of a Kamikaze attack on
Tutenkhamun. Living in piece meals, walking
Alongside the wall only, fear writ large on the face

the moon birth had gone waste. Eye donors were
waiting for the vision in darkness of violence,
the hstages were thrown out limb by limb,

the crazy world going berserk. Somebody
was carring flowers on the beach. My words
were losing the edge. I was dreaming of only bleeders.



Satish Verma