Everybody was half-naked on the trail
of curves. Braindead. Emptied thought.
A single vacant look.
“Why me? ” I ask. Stay stupid in the crowd. Looking
at the moon, indulgent. Plucking the nector from
knobs of naked flames.
No coming back from days of unknowing
the secrets of unskopen words. A cry stifles
in the throat of a prayer.
A moon was found on a dump!
Satish Verma
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: February 16th, 2012 23:12
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 30
Offline)
Comments1
The moon comes as an image reflection and then it was gone covered… I am trying to visualize the feeling of despair, as we stop to care what is around us. The feeling that the poem gives to me is this, Evoking and powerful.
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