Taking me to neverland
you turned me on.
The gypsy moon had smiled.
Disenchanted, the savage
handshake dropped the
lead. My goblet remained
full of black holes.
A cloud will cross the
line. Unrepentant my poems
would lie on hot rocks for baking.
Never made it. The
two small feet home. Still
searching the address of scream.
Ah, the snaky
embrace of the time. It
won't let me go near the lake.
Annihilation. All the
words are reduced to nothing.
Trying to learn the sign language.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: January 20th, 2022 22:29
- Category: Nature
- Views: 33
- User favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek.
Offline)
Comments2
beautiful and powerful words, s. "Never made it. The
two small feet home. "
'My goblet
remained, full of
black holes.
A cloud
will cross the line. Unrepentant
my poems
would lie on hot rocks, for baking.
Never
made it. The two small feet
home.'
Brilliant imagery, this
is what Artistry of Poetry feels like
to experience and be overwhelmed-by.
thank you, Guru!
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