25 may 2019
Sailing On Peaks
The blue veins,
defending brazenly
the pink gloves.
Unwedded to moon,
I become sick
of hypocricy of hands.
As the boulders slide
on chest, to unbring the infancy
of snowfall. I put my shovel down.
Was it too early to start
the game pf ravishing
the temple of stains?
Looking at the pillars
that would not hold the
ceiling, inviting the moment’s eternity.
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
21 april 2024
Picking RelicsSatish Verma
20 april 2024
To Dying MuseSatish Verma