Nightfall

satishverma

Street-the evil incarnate
runs after the people. I stay in smoke
to hide the pain of candle in wind.

I feel uneasy. Listen
to earth. Who was crying? I accost the moon.
I have to say something in the fog.

Bilberries leave the marks.
Your eyes are brown. Gold fishes swim.
I peel off my skin to see your face.

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: June 24th, 2021 20:53
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 25
  • Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
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Comments +

Comments1

  • L. B. Mek

    (such a brilliant poem: Guru;
    forgive me, I just had to try and respond
    however inadequate my words may read
    aside - your poetic genius)..
    those symbolic Bilberries of yearned-for, modest perfection
    do indeed stain our legacies
    churn our guts, till our eyes: glare Green
    and somewhere in that mirage of our shadow's shed
    we awaken, a small sprouting of hope
    accustomed to aiming low, for being planted
    in a world with diminishing light: to begin with...



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