Like I want to erase the fear
before I light a remote fire
in the blue veins.
Actually this was the crisis of self pride
in manic depression
seeking the anonymity of toes
tracing the footpath.
Becoming a paper-boat
in the winds of flesh and fancies
on the choppy sea of death.
No spinal pain for candles
to burn in courtyard
of sunken faith.
Red grapes in a tiny bowl
leap to lips of sun
for sons and daughters. Ajmer, INDIA
Satish Verma
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: November 17th, 2012 20:13
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
Offline)
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