An Art
A calling from zietgeist;
when a flute versus beast
starts a power play.
My world becomes wet.
Amorous,
when I watch a moth in your fist.
A split moon peels off
the cuticle, for a mega show of the
cone, shedding cruciform sword.
The white tiger leaps with
precision, spilling the milk container.
It was moonlight.
The baked smile now gathers
the teeth for a final bite.
The diamonds now quiver like a fear.
Satish Verma
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
