14 december 2019
Echos In September
Under a sickle moon,
the effect was colossal.
The mute words
were floating like vespae.
There was no―
promised nest of paper.
You cannot land
without ink.
The grey beard starts
weaving a web of
lies. Larvae will―
feed on blessed water.
Very warm, very hollow.
The globe turns. You stand
on the surface,
cannot fathom out the human mind.
25 april 2024
2504wiesiek
25 april 2024
QuartzSatish Verma
24 april 2024
The End StartsSatish Verma
23 april 2024
Three poemsAdam Pietras (Barry Kant)
22 april 2024
Echoes TravelSatish Verma
21 april 2024
od wewnątrzsam53
21 april 2024
2104wiesiek
21 april 2024
Picking RelicsSatish Verma
20 april 2024
To Dying MuseSatish Verma
19 april 2024
The VoyagerSatish Verma