20 lutego 2014
THIS ODYSSEY
The wound peeks out
from the round eyes. No lashes,
brows. Singed face betrays the scars
of last century.
He was fighting with his fists only.
Iced lids throwing the flames;
god knows what was the pain of memories?
He did not reverse the wheels of woes;
did not bring back the stream
lost in the volcanic rocks.
Playing truant from black death
a frail hope kindles the small fish
to swim against the current,
ruts of repetitions and bores of endless
barrels shooting roadmaps.
Satish Verma
21 marca 2025
jeśli tylko
21 marca 2025
eyesOFsoul
21 marca 2025
ajw
21 marca 2025
ajw
21 marca 2025
ajw
21 marca 2025
Eva T.
21 marca 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
21 marca 2025
supełek.z.mgnień
20 marca 2025
Atanazy Pernat
20 marca 2025
Atanazy Pernat