You Pick Burnt-Outs Poem by Satish Verma
You Pick Burnt-Outs
My mouth burns.
I speak, because I don't want to
speak. It was the red rose, responsible.
I must start conversation
with death. It was enough to visit me
againand again. A kiss will silencethe voice.
Untold, the domain enlarges.
You would fight sexism. It was rising
like crimson flames. Do you know the real?
Monday, November 9, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: life
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5/7/2024 5:15:34 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Good one. Yes keep fighting intolerance till your last breath. It seems to be rearing its ugly head again