Starving Poem by Satish Verma
Starving
The who was
inside you.
I want to discover,
a foam-born deity,
killing the moon.
You destroyed
me in the poems.
I cannot weave the
moonlight on the
jessamines.
Can you send
a message to Mars?
It is too crowded on
the earth. There was
no room for the muse.
Friday, May 29, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/3/2024 6:12:15 PM # 1.0.0.1119
