Sleeping In A Bunker Poem by Satish Verma
Sleeping In A Bunker
War and love, there
were no pure words. You move to
snatch me from the earth. Neo-fake!
Man always comes with
the matchet. You reply with flowers
to invite peace. No answers.
In your charisma, there was endless
death. From comedy to hemlock,
Socrates watches and turns the head.
An insightful work of art. Congrats on your poem's selection as member POD.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/16/2024 6:34:44 PM # 1.0.0.1119
A wonderful poem. Belated congratulation dear poet.