Had Been

satishverma

The most wanted moon
was writhing
in black sky, after a star
fell for a pebble.

The nymph had become
a golden nugget in east.
Sun was rising.

Guilt of burning the sea
was writ large on the face
of purple clouds.
I am collecting the garments of dew.

Sitting in a night
of waves, watching the theater
going in flames.That day
a cuckoo did not sing.

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: April 25th, 2015 00:10
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 10
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.