The Walls
A green smoke was rising
to ferret out
the elusive pain
without body.
I went in search of
fidgety words
to patch up the conflicts
of flesh.
Bold as Passiflora,
Crucifixion was complete.
Today a gift of obeyance
will arrive.
It was a fake.
The eyes on the hump.
Camel has to cross
a steep desert.
poem by Satish Verma
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
No comments until now.