Poetry

Velvet thorns
become signature
of my pain and joy.

Body paints the naked earth
blue. Eyes in hot desert
search red poles and blue moon.

Emotional strife:
dripping accidents with sum flowers,
extremely talkative.

Then the words litter
on white paper. Very sad,
you leave nothing between the waits.

Dawn to dusk, pleasing the gods.
An owl on each branch
disregarding the stars.


Satish Verma