MORSELS

satishverma

Talking of nameless and unhappy death
I resume the pathos of recluse
if not, what do I do after the sunset?

The shadow themes are picking up
and I am saying, 'No, I cannot do it,
may not do it, will not do it.'
I have been a drifter, did not grow roots
between the desire and wish. I had been
hopping from a thing to nothing.

Pretending my privilege, I ask the periwinkle
how do you do it,
remaining evergreen?
A smile spread on the calyx
the kind of a rainbow.
That was the answer.

No trace of bitterness, just the innocence
after many hurts. Life prods, life knocks,
natural and unfathomed pain. Must it leave
a scar? Live as you are, I say.

The blackened bread, the fudge,
whatsoever comes on the way
the flavor should be sweet.
They are morsels of confession.

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: March 8th, 2015 22:39
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 8
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry and subscribe to My Poetic Side ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors Weekly news



To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.