23 april 2014
APPLE PICKING
Immenseness of the contrast –
from blue eyes to red apples,
(we must stop apple picking!)
from smashed leg to a stone wall –
squanders the soft toys of time.
A peach colored queen lies in state
from centuries
to be buried in a golden casket.
Poverty of words,
hunts for the meaning, rhyme and consonance.
I drink darkness from the white lips.
Green eyes will find,
a sun at last.
The urn is broken.
The scented hairs cover my face –
tendrils of a brute fate.
A mutilated mirror will reflect the distorted history
of man, through the ages of dust
and wounds. The earth was riveting the god.
Satish Verma
17 september 2025
wiesiek
16 september 2025
wiesiek
16 september 2025
absynt
16 september 2025
absynt
15 september 2025
wiesiek
14 september 2025
wiesiek
13 september 2025
wiesiek
12 september 2025
wiesiek
9 september 2025
absynt
9 september 2025
ajw