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Divy Shukla Poem
And as my final act of love,
I would forgive myself,
Give myself the freedom we never had.
I will let our tulips wither, and let the ferns bloom in time.
Color my slate-grey skin pink, for silver offers no solace, its poison veiled in guile.
I will be the blue we dreamt to sink into.
And you will be the amber sun that burns.
And as the skyline kindles and the sky grows crowded with clouds,
I will meet you at the horizon, hidden in a shroud.
Dried love, my eyes still searching for your face,
my tongue stiff, still trying to pronounce your name.
Copyright © Divy Shukla | Year Posted 2026
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Details |
Divy Shukla Poem
Lying dead on the concrete floor,
Chilly weather and the concrete is just as cold.
How did that bubbly Nice kid die?
I guess he had too much roaming around in his little creative mind.
Gun in his mouth and the smoke still flowing,
Blood all over and the camera still rolling.
Is this an act, was he making a movie?
What about the morning after he is done? His body deep under the calm yet stern mud.
Did he live a facile life or was it a fun one?
And was his demise worth even a dime?
What will be the views of emotionless humans on this lugubrious crime
Surely worth a watch, surely worth your precious time.
Copyright © Divy Shukla | Year Posted 2026
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