Return to an old style.
I hold the breadth, crippled in
grip. No deterrence. I want your drink.
Let me become intro-
spective. I am god, creating moon's
corona. Everyone looks schizophrenic.
Roses in summers were
sad. No color sticks. Only flowing
blood was red. Butterflies disappear.
YOU ARE READING
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...