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Sonic Dark
Folder:
Satish Verma Moon like a white panther,
waits in the dark when I was condemned
to live more in the crowd of predators.
Brutal smell of crocus
makes me insane. The fireflies are
unleashed to pick the sparks of love.
You re-imagine a dream.
who was spoiling the sun to burn
the forest where fawns live without violence?
The verbal beauty of this
The verbal beauty of this poem cannot be overstated. It resonates off the screen---so much significance compressed into so few lines. This is one of the best poems I have read in a long, long time.
Starward