Bare Tongue
It was
a killing line.
Walking on razor wire,
when toes would not leave the sky
and heels will not touch the ground.
Myths and legends
were becoming a witchcraft.
Are you ready to eschew the classical script
and write a new fable, about
a life size robot,
who will speak for millions
and put his signature on the wall
of a dying moon for the sake of blue clouds ?
The caldron is empty. No body was
throwing any baby in it.
Stay still.
The bold instincts will come back with vengeance.
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.
