22 september 2019
By Any Reckoning
A young grasshopper lands
on the paper, I was writing upon,
making a chirping sound―
and starts reading the poem.
It was an exceptional treat
for the eyes. Shutting the storm
window, I will watch the rain―
pounding on the frame,
to recall the visitor―
which was behaving like a
celtic Druid, in meditation, to see
the future of mankind.
Not sure, the bent legs, will
ever lift the body and
propel it to move.
The mayhem was thin, but I
declared― the poetry
was not for insects.
19 april 2024
1904wiesiek
19 april 2024
The VoyagerSatish Verma
18 april 2024
ItinerantSatish Verma
17 april 2024
Nim kur zapiejeJaga
17 april 2024
Between Done And UndoneSatish Verma
16 april 2024
Przed zmrokiemJaga
16 april 2024
1604wiesiek
15 april 2024
I RememberSatish Verma
14 april 2024
....wiesiek
14 april 2024
I Am You AreSatish Verma