1 august 2015
The Vacant Frame
Self – immolating silence
softens the pain, an art of solitude.
Evening drifts to come closer to moon.
Night is summer washed.
Small stars are trembling
on blue waves.
The night climbs down
from the brown hill.
Agony of life filters
in your eyes.
Unspoiled tears leave a trail of liberation.
Sorrow was insipid in your dark book.
Possessing a blue surge,
a nothingness bloomed
into a smile.
Space fills the dreams,
coarse picture and empty memories.
The vacant frame holds only the waiting.
Centre was gone.
The boundaries have captured
the colorless fragments of thought,
dry bones.
28 april 2024
Pan pokląskwa w ostatnichJaga
28 april 2024
CompromisedSatish Verma
27 april 2024
Uśmiech z trawkąJaga
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)