Contraptions

When I was arranging daffodils
you send in tanks. 

The sky was overcast.
When I was talking to clouds
Fireballs are delivered.

That signals the specific gravity
is shifting to knobs.
The artist was going
to disappear. 

I think of faithfulls.
How beautifully they talk of
two moons.

I had decided to quit
when you send in a hymn. 


Satish Verma
Copyright © | Year Posted 2013

Poem

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Dietrich Avatar
March 9, 2013 at 11:09 AM
very interesting poetry. I enjoyed this one.
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