The Stranger

Ready to pounce on 
a scarecrow.
The ants were hungry.

It was a dried bone? 
frame, wearing the royal 
costume, waiting for the moon.

Can you play with the 
jewels and still 
remain poor ?

The suckers refuse to
shrink, taking away skin,
the eyes, the ears.

It overwhelms the loneliness, 
the silence, the colossus, 
and the two-faced king in making.


Satish Verma
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

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

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace