25 november 2014
The Moon-ed ‘I’...
Distance was increasing
in spewing rage.
I yearned for a solitude of desert
sand and rocks
away from musty tongues
and eros.
Counting my failed attempts
to reconcile with exits
and slant hopes.
Like an eclipsed moon
plying over the hill
to investigate a shorn lamb.
Plucking the hair from a beautiful scalp
to become a nun.
Arthritic river brings back the waves.
Unreachable was the crest.
Today standing alone on the summit
I watch the dropp with grief.
Satish Verma
16 october 2025
wiesiek
15 october 2025
wiesiek
15 october 2025
Jaga
14 october 2025
wiesiek
13 october 2025
Jaga
10 october 2025
wiesiek
8 october 2025
ajw
8 october 2025
ajw
8 october 2025
Jaga
7 october 2025
wiesiek