Muzzling Poem by Satish Verma
Muzzling
Listening to a gleaming
word whole life
and finding its meaning at
the fag end.
And you are in thrall
to a sinful pleasure.
The yearnings
of a small Pteris,
which drinks arsenic daily
to rescue a withering smile.
A poem sings to me
under a lantern, when a
storm was raging to roil
the blue birds of imploring peaks.
It looks into your eyes
to find the answer
of complete shutdown
of cotton feel.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 3:41:36 AM # 1.0.0.1119
