Unheard Murders Poem by Satish Verma
Unheard Murders
Nature was conservative.
I was writing new poems, killing
the stories. There was pain for pain.
In my shortness, I find
tall soul-trees, who talk like Buddha
at night to bring back blue black thoughts.
After all balloons will fly
to follow queer small gods playing
with paralysed voices.
Tuesday, November 3, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: life
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5/2/2024 9:29:19 AM # 1.0.0.1119
