Confessional Hurt
Holding the ladder
I was hungry
looking at the waiting dawn.
Raw landscape:
narcissism
forages the belly.
Picking up the figs
from passion flowers.
Is that right ?
Can you sow the seeds
on a cloud ?
Unclothed words ?
Stealthily
a guerilla smashes
a summary of centre.
A falconer
releases a prey
to feed an anarchy.
Satish Verma
Copyright © Satish Verma | Year Posted 2013
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