The Clan Poem by Satish Verma

The Clan

Rating: 1.0


As I come, for molarity
without molars.
No grinding was left
in the millstones.

The family
accumulates. My distorted shape
will not accept
the broken ankle.

Paraplegic, you run
faster than meteriorite.
The boom was heard
beyond cacophony.

It had come from
the blue. The burning anchor
of desire, without
the damp eyes.

Thursday, September 18, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success