Each Thorn Was Crying

Each Thorn Was Crying short poem

Photo by Arn@ud Ab@die

Sometimes I will interplay
the secrets:
faded rose in a book,
a distant star spelling out
your name.

When I go, will you come
to my home?
Hold my eyes wide open
and become my iris?
I wanted to see the innocence of a sin.

Black stone on a white belly
petrifies the womb.
Maniacs were dancing on the petals
of marigolds.
A mauve revenge

Petit mal holds the sanity
of defeat.
Pheromones will decide the gender
of a flat chested angel.
Each thorn was crying.

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Satish Verma

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Satish 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. This is magic, profoundly soulful. In a lone, long journey Satish Verma is still discovering himself. Beaten, betrayed, felled, he comes back with fierce velocity. His childhood was traumatized by India’s partition. Terror, violence and death were witnessed which built the morals of poet. Becoming defiantly recluse Satish Verma pursued his value based life on the path of truth. Teaching Botany for 35 years he was writing poetry, privately and solemnly and published twelve collections. Worked silently with social causes. His scions, doctors and engineers are living in USA. He chose to live back in his beloved country and resides in Ajmer (INDIA) with his spouse Kanta running the Charitable Holistic Institute of SEWA MANDIR FOUNDATION. He can also be reached at kantasatish@gmail.com. 5-A ii, Mayoor Colony, Alwar Gate, Ajmer – 305007 INDIA Mobile +91 9829071468
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Preeti
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Loved your poem. Keep writing!

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