Poetry

Your unclaimers
will miss the date
with a lunatic world,

what might
you need
for the final journey.

Don’t stop at midway
to watch the history
taking a turn.

A crispy sun
was waiting in meadows
to welcome bonhomie,

freedom of unlacing
the foes. The flesh sends
upright signals

for releasing the soul.
The incredible smell of bleed
will hang on the solid stings of space.


Satish Verma