The Caller

The Caller short poem

Photo by Keoni Cabral

After breach in tolerance
one peeled truth becomes incendiary.
Afraid of the known:
pitched against
unknown.

Dying young with stiff upper lip,
the grief,
was not curtained enough.
The malignant spread,
refused to retract a name from the epitaph.

Greed overtook
by calculation,
powerful thrust to run the winds,

the virgin grass will not surrender.
Lethal on the move, a humble shout
was nearer to god.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 4.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Profile photo of Satish Verma

Satish Verma

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
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
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of
avatar
wpDiscuz

The Caller

The Caller short poem

Maybe I’m crazy, maybe I’m sane; Who is she that calls my name? Day and night, night and day; Who is she that calls my name? A demon, a witch, a ghost, a memory; I feel her call deep within