Half-burnt, I am
raising my hand and my poems are
working crossing the pains.
The collected suicide
of the nightingales have given the worry.
I am living in the desert of love.
Humankind is becoming
rare. The tulips have started
talking. Why the blood spots are appearing?
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: July 29th, 2021 19:54
- Category: Nature
- Views: 28
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments1
'The collected suicide
of the nightingales have given the worry.'
'my poems are
working crossing the pains.'
'The tulips have started
talking. Why the blood spots are appearing?'
'Humankind is becoming
rare.'
(sheer Brilliance, as ever: Guru
please forgive my rude rearranging
of your masterly lines)
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