Half-Lights Poem by Satish Verma
Half-Lights
Rating: ★4.0
With silver spoon, I
cannot eat your words―
selling my poverty.
Another pain comes,
when you walk barefoot
in hot sun, to feel the old burns.
Black moon, and red
eyes, in white nights.
These were my poems.
Your body comes in
between my blues
and trembling morrows.
Thursday, February 16, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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4/26/2024 1:53:26 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Nothing we know can fly like that. But why is that? Why stop, hover, hesitate in a night sky as vast as imagination? And then, without warning, without the slightest reasonable explanation, start off towards the faintest star deliberately before veering left to leave the atmosphere.