It Does Not Matter
After a face – off
you toss the coin
resenting the liquid fame.
Frame extracts the price
of picture.
Compassion for the artist was missing.
I suffer in mid moon
between darkness and light
clarity of rags was improving.
Homage is now going to hurt
after the fall of ego, in
ending of alchemy.
In spite or sorrow
a face drills holes
in my wheels.
SATISH VERMA
Copyright © Satish Verma | Year Posted 2010
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