Golden AfternoonA Poem by Satish VermaNo questions were taken from unforgiving sword.
No questions were taken
from unforgiving sword. And the dead horse. A river runs through your body defining the wet castles. You look into the eyes of the invader. The palace intrigues dig in. You cannot meet the princess. The inevitability of war looms large. You will finally know that every body is mortal. The remains are meant for the inconceivable. The scripture versus a blank page are on the collision course. © 2016 Satish Verma |
StatsAuthor
|