Who ups the ante,
if you don't exist to catch the song
of sorrow to become immortal.
For a thousand years, the
iris waits for the light to dig and
redress the memory of gone spring.
The deaf and dumb leads
the voices coming from the active volcano
where the sparks are throwing lava.
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Satish Verma Poems
PoetrySatish Verma is ferociously original. You feel resentment, outrage and violence, cannot pin it down but wonderfully spin your brain. Satish has the greatest sensibility which sweetly exploits the delicacies of human conflicts. You are taken aback. T...