Polka Dots

satishverma

We are afraid of each
other. You start packing
your majolica wares to move out
swiftly, not to return back.

The floor was dirty.
I walk barefoot on the sharp edges.
To ask the matriarch of pains―
mother earth, how long the
man should suffer?

A woodcutter does not
want to pursue his art. He
throws his axe far away and
starts meditating.

So much violence in our
lives. You slay a traveler
for telling his mind.

You were becoming jealous
of yourself. Start throwing
pepper in the eyes of moon.

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: January 21st, 2020 20:35
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 6
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.