PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I was learning, how 
not to catch you. 

Called the cloud 
hugging a hillside. 
Can you climb on the road? 
No, it said, I want to play with the moon. 

So, 
this was becoming, 
without presence. 
An epiphany? No it was a crying 
theme, discovery of the self. 

When the tremors came, 
you were flung like a doll, 
opening the earth 
one breath long. 

Swallows were eyeing the sky. 


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The hollow tree 
traps the light and sends out 
the blue pupils of yellow eyes. 

I am still counting the limbs 
under the boulders. 
The landmass was moving asking names. 

The big vulture was watching 
the end of the feast, 
for schizophrenics. 

A bomb hidden in turban will 
kill a saint. You say I should 
call for the girls. 

Why don't you wear the skullcap 
to cover the beautiful mind 
which will not kiss the fire?