SINFUL BLASTS

There was a pattern

half truth was inversely igniting

the attachement to death.

and the other half was changing discreetly.

 

A malevolent hand strikes off the name

from blackboard. Guest will not arrive,

wait was over.

It was a moonless night,

 

By evening red rains will come

like thousand thoughts;

something wild will appear in his hands,

he would start smashing the stars.

 

When clouds dispersed, a half burnt

body was found on railroad track.

It was a blacksmith building the bridge

on the sinful blasts.

 

 

SATISH VERMA