Poetry

Satish Verma


older other poems newer

3 april 2022

White Shrouds

The lips will speak
without sound.
A tuliped man hangs himself
down, from a tall tree of fame.

You wanted to live in the―
glare of slit throats.
The blood brings the brilliant
glitter of gold.

End of the speech will―
throw up a mascot. The noose was
tightening around the―
rising― glorious sun.

Slavery never ends. You
become victim of your dazzling
peaks, when you stand alone
at unthinkable heights.

The spirit of the tree dies in your eyes.






Report this item

 


Terms of use | Privacy policy

Copyright © 2010 truml.com, by using this service you accept terms of use.


You have to be logged in to use this feature. please register

Ta strona używa plików cookie w celu usprawnienia i ułatwienia dostępu do serwisu oraz prowadzenia danych statystycznych. Dalsze korzystanie z tej witryny oznacza akceptację tego stanu rzeczy.    Polityka Prywatności   
ROZUMIEM
1