The Raging Storm Poem by Satish Verma

The Raging Storm

Rating: 5.0


A scavenger fails to thrive
in upward mobility.
The emotion becomes a virtual,
collects all the garbage
and becomes negative.

There are only varied questions
of different shades, and
no appropriate answer.

A fantasy remonstrates with the diminutive moon.

Stone pelting becomes a daily
ritual with the song. There
was no music in the language.

Scarves were few. And it
was very cold―
out in the chilled dark.

Wednesday, February 10, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi 10 February 2016

stone pelting becomes the daily ritual with a song! ! what an imagination! as usual amazing, Poet!

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