Irreparable

It was lack of contusion.
The relief had not come. Hours
were on after the nobility moved
on faulted track.
Methane was rising.

It was white death:
people were coming, people were going.
Pure and muddy, the treachery was
like trace gases in a mine.
Anytime the explosion will take place.

The children were shrinking
I do not speak. Watch the flowerpots flying.
All the celestial deities have entered the lake.
Take a quick dip in the nude serenity.
Time was slipping out from the aquarium.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 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

Irreparable Damage

Irreparable Damage short poem

Broken,shattered and lost with loneliness deep in my roots I don’t wish for any spring because I am tired of humans. the people who were my blood, my friends have changed with time like weather and I am unable to