Warbirds Poem by Satish Verma
Warbirds
O Zero man! you come
with a continuous denial,
of thirst of war,
a habit, predation.
When would you cross the blood lines?
The night blooms.
Sucking stars, moon
and chaste boundaries.
Nothing moves in the
stillness of voice, words.
A green light floats.
When there will be peace?
en face, I was ready to
fold the words, the sky.
Thursday, September 29, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/6/2024 7:04:37 AM # 1.0.0.1119
