Get Rid Of The Advertisements

It bends― the chastity―
the illicit vows. O, let me
become an artisan. I will
ensue― a new harvest of sandalwood.

Don’t light the joss sticks.
There is no abstract presence―
of him. Nobody knows―
you, better than me.

Search the―
magnum opus and you will
find that― man has failed…
to clear the debris of the Fort.

Strange happenings, still
take place. Grass is still green …
in solitude, a poem
takes birth.

By satishverma

© 2019 satishverma (All rights reserved)


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