Get Rid Of The Advertisements

CATASTROPHE
 
Are you genuine, I ask?
Your face, a stone wall,
I had been bruising my psyche against it.
I have no strength to bury myself alive,
in the mass grave of lies.

An ancient fear
descends from the hill.
Wants to marry a tree.
Or worship the terror
of a diaspora.

The vultures are dying every day,
We were talking of pregnancy,
desire and death.

The sparrows are gone.
Heat is rising.
I am starting the countdown.

By satishverma

© 2014 satishverma (All rights reserved)

 

Read more poems by  satishverma
Send this poem to a friend
Read 1 viewers comment(s)


The Starlite Cafe Discussion Board | Home

Back to Previous Page