The hawk was landing.
Squinting at the urgent need
of slaughter and hope –
among the frightened hunger
of truth, of running feet
in the tall grass.
A world apart in
seeking the reality of
dying for earthly love.
I was not sure of
the manifesto of bricks and
stones falling on evergreen kisses.
Satish Verma
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: January 13th, 2011 22:43
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 26
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
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Comments1
Fascinating description.....I can't quite pinpoint exactly what of...but definitely. poetically describes.....???
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