4 august 2014
WAVERING
I have peeled off my eyes.
Fear of unbeing creeps in,
genes were escaping.
The thin affair bends
under the burden of vague uncertainty.
A smoke rolls out from choking throat.
A word leaps high from wounded pride.
The author does not know the sting,
blames the ears.
Hails will strike when you open the door.
The past will question the future,
the anguish of infinity.
Satish Verma
25 february 2026
wiesiek
24 february 2026
wiesiek
23 february 2026
Jaga
23 february 2026
wiesiek
22 february 2026
wiesiek
22 february 2026
jeśli tylko
21 february 2026
wiesiek
21 february 2026
wiesiek
20 february 2026
Jaga
19 february 2026
wiesiek