11 october 2012
POSTSCRIPT
The space shrinks
when moon breaks the black night.
An aching flotilla does not
reach home. The wait ends
in your poems.
Clutching at floating truths
you help to save the words
of predicament. Ultimately
a temple walks free
without a god.
The whiteness of false teeth
has a regular visitor
of a bright smile.
But the tender eyes were telling
a different story.
Satish Verma
12 march 2026
wiesiek
11 march 2026
Jaga
11 march 2026
Jaga
11 march 2026
wiesiek
10 march 2026
wiesiek
7 march 2026
jeśli tylko
5 march 2026
jeśli tylko
5 march 2026
jeśli tylko
4 march 2026
wiesiek
3 march 2026
wiesiek