After half live-in, in
my eyes, the pain wants to go back in
the ocean to escape the flare.
Not dependent on poverty
of truth, time leaves the green amputation
on the heart. I love the space.
And the other miasma
resolves the mystery of undying words
of the healer, the mouth of fire.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: May 3rd, 2021 20:38
- Category: Nature
- Views: 27
Offline)
Comments2
'Not dependent on poverty
of truth, time
leaves the green amputation
on the: heart.'
stupendously, profound!
I appreciate your little poems... they are dense, full of surprises, and hard enough to decipher to be elusive, but rewarding to work through.
Do you have a name for the 3X3 verse form you use? What made you pick that style? Reminds me a little of Dante. It's very limiting in a way that keeps you efficient and direct. You have but a few lines to say your piece, so you have to make it succinct and bold.
I read your poems like little riddles. They are becoming like my daily sudoku!
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.