Some Prelude

satishverma

There were, peels
of ripples. Between.

The tangled arguments. Then you
start reading in the bumps;
a cold blooded murder.

Of poems? Serrated, when

I lifted them from your bloody hands.
No miracle. The animal
survives, without water, air.

You come down the ramp
without shoes to reclaim
the heritage.

And that means, there had been
an attempt, to commit suicide!

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: May 2nd, 2017 22:46
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 7
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry and subscribe to My Poetic Side ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors Weekly news



To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.