Treasure Island

Hardik Vaidya

(26 Dec 1969, I won't be dead till you know I am alive. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)

Subterranean


Parched, not dry, cracked not broken.
Dripping, not oozing on an unknown planet.
But alive. Breathing, clawing into the soil.
Finding the dreams which once lived there.
Dreams of aliens, which seed new thoughts.
Once they become mine I become an alien.
From green depths erupt purple volcanoes,
Are they thoughts? Letters? Alphabets? Dead experiences?
The magenta oozes out of my pores and flows out as ruby red,
Shines in the alien suns, in a color my eyes see but my being does not.
The moons bathe me, and I bask as the cold basalt.
The waves of my soul nudge me alive,
I write on the sands of time.

Submitted: Monday, April 08, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, October 09, 2013
Listen to this poem:

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Subterranean by Hardik Vaidya )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..
[Hata Bildir]