Poetry

Death was prowling
from funeral to funeral.
No shadow will be spared today.

I am not ready yet for the final curtain.
Bullets have left some clocks
ticking in the pockets of time.

I shall call the leader
who is hiding behind the scriptures.

Don’t choose the destiny.
Don’t commit the date.
Anguish itself will find the path.

What was wrong with the earth?
It has stopped moving,
the stars are drifting away.
Another explosion in the sun?

I don’t know.
This world is heavy with pain.
Rivers are flooded with blood and tears
and I am roaming in the jungle of lies.


Are you listening?


Satish Verma