Treasure Island

Satish Verma

(5-6-1935)

‘...ROOTS THAT CLUTCH...’


You know I do not hope
any intermission,
between life and death.
My path goes nowhere.

A hiatus between the mirrors has questions.
From childhood I was always
floating between the meanings
of lessons unknown.
I longed for straight humilities.

Present redeems the past.
Each sound leaves an echo
and has-been becomes the shrine of peace.

ad infinitum I will wait
for the primitive blood
to reappear, the truth of
midnight sin.

Submitted: Thursday, June 26, 2008

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  • Nikunj Sharma (8/12/2009 11:04:00 PM)

    lovely poem, make one think and draw out different meanings. return of the primitive blood, between life and death my path goes no where..You have spinned charisma on paper....blessed are those who read your work. (Report) Reply

  • , aryaindia (7/23/2008 6:48:00 AM)

    The depth of your poem is mesmerising and haunting in its eloquence and power of reach. I enjoy this sort of poetry that makes one think and think endlessly. God bless and keep you. Arya. (Report) Reply

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