Scavenging the art
of life, you strip
to the bones …
The wild hunt for
the blue jay ends
in exile.
Time plays a cruel
game. You win, and are
served the crab apples.
Like Sylvia Plath―
you betray yourself,
but poems stop you.
A bling of your voice―
deflects the stardust.
A granite will become you.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: May 3rd, 2019 21:50
- Category: Nature
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: Laura🌻
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.