One strange movement
stops. You won't conform
an angel's thought dream.
And I will not give in to an epithet
for paradigm shift.
Unblinkingly you stare through
me weighing my
dewy eyes. They had spilled the ink
of heart. Subatomically, a mass
becomes a howl of unheard scream.
I want you for all the
pores of my consciousness. On a
blank paper you will write a betrayal
of cuckoo. The small songbird
cries in joy.
An earthern lamp burns
tirelessly. I cover the flame with
my palm to give you a handprint
of my waist.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: January 22nd, 2019 19:29
- Category: Nature
- Views: 31
- Users favorite of this poem: Laura🌻
Offline)
Comments3
Exceptional!
nicely written 🙂
Yeah, this is identical to an angels dream. keep your dreams alive.
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