Bewitching Poem by Satish Verma

Bewitching



Absolutely zilch.
Sometimes you feel―
nothing moves.

Coming out of
remorse, there was no
confronting power―

to reason. Even
time freezes in your pen,
ink evaporates.

The blues, become
a sacred cove, where
a lake would take birth.

And a speaking
pain will embrace your
sinking boat.

Thursday, November 17, 2016
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