Poetry

The other side of life behind the barbed
future
where they were seeking gratifications,
I was entering the past, without pretention.

Time will cleanse the mutation. I will
be breaking the god's boundaries. A theme
of nobility has lot of troubles.
If I were poaching on death, that was unintentional,
life seeks a revenge on being denied
a place in sun. I will drink my own
pain.
My ashes are not meant for praise
They are to be strewn around on hills
whom I could not climb.

Only the fragrance of wild flowers will
bring back that cool goodbye.


Satish Verma