PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Let me put back 
the rhythm to the song 
of broken limbs. 
To arrest the speed of sun-set, 
for a meaningful dialogue 
with the verse of moon. 
The poison of floodlit city 
grazes my house. 
The innocence of the dark suffers. 

The white stillness 
of empty hands lifts a failure 
my heart lives with a death 
Intimately. Where the birds have gone? 
I chase the wings. 
The otherness of love, 
the vulnerability of darkness 
stays with me. 
The thirst of ocean is very large. 

Mechanical imitation 
of aloneness for a ripe death 
it is nostalgia of past history. 
Deep in thoughts I run 
for my green childhood. 
A strange metastasis 
from remote guilts. A rose 
upon rose piled up 
to form a signature mode.