Scarf On Head
Tangled clues
with sensuous sparring;
the incense was rising from the blue moon.
It was body’s integrity,
a lender was demanding
when lust had become prodigal.
Behind the thin veil, red eyes
stared unblinkingly
at the portrait of a nude zero.
When the light was nodding from a crown
the darkness spat on the feet
which walked on the roses.
A single thorn will not be envious
of the licking fingers.
A dropp of blood will tell the truth.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
