A Ghost Dream

satishverma

When you swap
your emotions with red moon,
my poem bleeds.

A huge graffiti becomes
visible, when dark clouds
gather for the gossip.

In absenteeism,
you were the sharpest pain
of my pen.

A purple smoke was
rising again, without―
a flame. One beat skips
and hundred blames come.

You don't speak
your mind. Pure faults go
unnoticed. The conversation
drops between two blades
of grass. Magenta
moon drips.

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: March 11th, 2021 19:45
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 23
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Comments +

Comments1

  • L. B. Mek

    'a tale of relationship's discourse between our perceived course of life and that fate - waiting, to trip us off-course and on to the track that's just right, for us..
    important to acknowledge all the participants when we remember disagreements, one side
    seldom has all the answers'..
    a great read! (sorry if I've misinterpreted your words dear poet)



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