You come to me
when transparency enables
you to paint your
knuckles blue.
War was on!
Peeling the tangerines
with delicate fingers, in
winter sun to recite
the poems together.
Why you will not sleep
till the snake bites?
Thinking of this brute life.
Nipping in the sharp nails,
wolverine sitting beside
the bonfire.
Calling, a lie a lie,
I am going to punish myself.
No ruinous effect
of soft kisses
without lips.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: April 18th, 2022 19:28
- Category: Nature
- Views: 18
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments1
'Peeling the tangerines
with delicate fingers, in
winter sun to recite
the poems together.'
(what an enlightening experience that would be, Guru!
as ever, I thank you)
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