The Terrain

by Satish Verma

It was always painful to remember the suicide of a painter,
who was drawing the landscape of hunger,
Polishing his art of pretention.

Time whistled past his window without punctuation.
The terrain was tough,
deepened by requiem,
the tears dried up on the cheeks of chastity.

Script without drum and hue of glowing eyes,
cracked lips of us and our instruments of tragedy.

29-May-2012

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