Relics Of Words Poem by Satish Verma

Relics Of Words



An ailing sun.
I grieve for a lost song
unheard in rains.

*

The kneaded flesh
of a weeping star pulsates
on the split grains.

*

Let the mother resolve,
who was the immortal son
of the bruised earth.

Saturday, August 18, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Mahtab Bangalee 18 August 2018

nice stanza- Let the mother resolve, who was the immortal son of the bruised earth.

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