20 listopada 2012
ONLY METAPHORS
A hidden self portrait
in a tar pit
I do not want to explore further.
Wind was making a big sound
the tarp blowing off,
I stand naked under the scortching sun.
A classless pain rises fiercely
I am careless about my height
amdist tall peaks.
Hypodermic, my little dachshund
holds the time in small paws
and plays with my stasis.
I loose my taste of salt on lips
charting between the tears
of infant fears.
Satish Verma
21 maja 2025
violetta
21 maja 2025
Marek Gajowniczek
21 maja 2025
wiesiek
21 maja 2025
Yaro
21 maja 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
20 maja 2025
Atanazy Pernat
20 maja 2025
Atanazy Pernat
20 maja 2025
Atanazy Pernat
20 maja 2025
Atanazy Pernat
20 maja 2025
sam53