Unsucceeding Poem by Satish Verma
Unsucceeding
After the
elective execution,
you reach at the
end of nowhere.
A wayward
cloud stands alone
under the plump moon.
It is absolutely―
white, like the
wings of a swan.
Beneath the earth
you want to dig out
the remains of dark hoods.
Gale-force winds
promise to make you
snow-blind.
Monday, September 8, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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4/25/2024 12:21:21 PM # 1.0.0.1119
