Contraptions Poem by Satish Verma
Contraptions
When I was arranging daffodils
you send in tanks.
The sky was overcast.
When I was talking to clouds
Fireballs are delivered.
That signals the specific gravity
is shifting to knobs.
The artist was going
to disappear.
I think of faithfulls.
How beautifully they talk of
two moons.
I had decided to quit
when you send in a hymn.
A really great poem, like it, a great write. May I Invite you to read my new poem called, The Holy Man.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/10/2024 8:07:20 PM # 1.0.0.1119
clouded are my mind, if nothing interesting to find! !