31 july 2015
In The Intermittent Love
The eerie exodus of rage
from crashing domes,
was the collective wisdom.
A complete thought,
walked with me like a shadow.
The long journey
for truth demanded clarity.
Life had not been fair,
path of death was endless.
The body poem from the sad
and gentle portrait crossed the line,
became a sculpture.
My silver verse died.
I was courting a white washed city.
The book of sorrow levitates,
Someday I will face the artist.
Sleepwalking I start.
Waking to your name
history was unmade.
My breath went heavier,
and my steps emptier.
The metaphors did’t kiss,
my innovations.
In the intermittent love,
hate was the topic.
27 april 2024
By KissesSatish Verma
26 april 2024
2608wiesiek
26 april 2024
The EntitySatish Verma
25 april 2024
2504wiesiek
25 april 2024
QuartzSatish Verma
24 april 2024
The End StartsSatish Verma
23 april 2024
Three poemsAdam Pietras (Barry Kant)
22 april 2024
Echoes TravelSatish Verma
21 april 2024
od wewnątrzsam53
21 april 2024
2104wiesiek