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Author Name: Freesatishverma 0 Comments
Date Added: April 20, 2018 20:04:32 Average Score: (Needs 2)
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Type: Unspecified
Category: Inspirational Add To Favorites | Text Only
Lips of clay tend to bleed 
my kisses. 
And the distant moon treads 
softly on the spent passion. 

A private crimson 
blunts the whiteness of moon. 
The birds- 
step out from the fog. 

Last moments - 
of the bell to announce 
the schizophrenic flesh 
sailing like snowflakes. 

A primordial fear - 
was destroying the profile of man. 
Here it goes- 
the spiritual enigma. 

A blast 
of stunned silence: 
I am collecting pebbles 
from the trees.
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'Perception' Copyright © Satish Verma
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