Poetry

Satish Verma


older other poems newer

4 july 2020

This Living Death

Oh, templed god, why did
you snare the palmer?

The importance of being
the autonomous? I am trying to
stay away from me to keep
a watch on you.

The itinerant sorcerer had
become a legate of gold trade.

The flesh is for sale, the
small mouth with big hunger.

A fledging of scar has become
a bleed. The synopsis was out.

I am going to ask some question
from the bo tree today.






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