6 july 2018
Making Overtures
Night.
A scantily clad sky,
with unkempt clouds.
Moon was climbing.
Caved in.
I had nothing left
to say, except
soundless poems.
No regrets;
in this climactic
struggle of life. The
pain eases, when
memory fails.
The flesh engages the
spirit. End would wait
till the grass banks.
18 april 2024
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ItinerantSatish Verma
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Nim kur zapiejeJaga
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Between Done And UndoneSatish Verma
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Przed zmrokiemJaga
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1604wiesiek
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