22 september 2019
By Any Reckoning
A young grasshopper lands
on the paper, I was writing upon,
making a chirping sound―
and starts reading the poem.
It was an exceptional treat
for the eyes. Shutting the storm
window, I will watch the rain―
pounding on the frame,
to recall the visitor―
which was behaving like a
celtic Druid, in meditation, to see
the future of mankind.
Not sure, the bent legs, will
ever lift the body and
propel it to move.
The mayhem was thin, but I
declared― the poetry
was not for insects.
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