Half-Drowned

satishverma

The knot was broken 
from the waist, 
as if we were struck 
by a bolt. 

Thinking must stop. 
Violence was there within 
the pods, to explode and 
eject the seeds. 

The silent rape of a 
sleeping book. You cannot 
tear off the pages, 
limb by limb. 

You will not read the 
past. Would not write 
the future. The present roars 
through the window starting a brush fire.

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: June 7th, 2018 19:24
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 16
  • Users favorite of this poem: Laura🌻
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Comments +

Comments1

  • Laura🌻

    ‘Tis the present in an uproar!



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