Sailing On Peaks - Poem by Satish Verma
The blue veins,
the pink gloves.
Unwedded to moon,
I become sick
of hypocricy of hands.
As the boulders slide
on chest, to unbring the infancy
of snowfall. I put my shovel down.
Was it too early to start
the game pf ravishing
the temple of stains?
Looking at the pillars
that would not hold the
ceiling, inviting the moment’s eternity.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
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Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You