22 april 2020
Penury Ward
In tattered clothes.
I would see my returned privation.
I will make the holes bigger,
so that light seeps in,
on my blackened chest.
The lovers will not meet
today, out, in open;
on moonward path.
The charred remains―
of the rope are visible.
The soaked blanket, to sleep in,
has become infernal.
What are you drinking now?
No other passage,
no exit, even the kiss of death?
26 april 2024
The EntitySatish Verma
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