Poonam Rani Poet Classicism

Moss

HER FEET IS SMOTHERED BY MOSS,
HER ARMS SPROUTING MUSHROOMS,
HER LEAFY FINGERS,
HER IMPOTENT EYES,
HER HAIR HOUSES NESTLINGS,
FROZEN BRAIN WITH REBUFFED THOUGHTS,
FAINT HEARTED,
HER LIPS READ EULOGY OF HER PAST LIFE,
HER NOSTRILS BREATHE DRY ICE,
HER CHEST HOLDS DRIED UP ESSENCE OF LIFE,
SHE STANDS PLANTED IN AN UNIFORMED GARDEN,
WITH THE GARDENER ONLY FOCUSING TO REST UNDER HER SHADE,
BOTHERLESS OF HER WITHERING,

I MEAN THE TREE.


V.POONAM

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Beata Agustin April 25, 2024 at 3:53 AM Thanks for sharing this... exposing your thoughts about a tree through your unique poetic style. Welcome to Poetry Soup. I welcome you with the love of the Lord, expressed by John 3:16 of the Bible, "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." Be blessed.