30 january 2020
With No Apology
On the mount
a broad-leaved tree was preparing
for self destruction.
It was too cold
under the sun.
A small Christmas tree
with its needle leaves
waits for the snow,
to draw a self-potrait
in bitter winter.
Snow fall makes it
gold, when rain comes
and my hand knives the moon.
5 may 2024
N2absynt
5 may 2024
Poetic JusticeSatish Verma
4 may 2024
N1absynt
4 may 2024
Izerska rzekakalik
4 may 2024
0405wiesiek
4 may 2024
Suffering Was RightSatish Verma
3 may 2024
M1absynt
3 may 2024
0305wiesiek
3 may 2024
I Was LostSatish Verma
1 may 2024
DogmaticallySatish Verma