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Poems :  Predictions
Tags: Life  
 
The hunger was scouring
each house― in utopia―
daring you to open the door.

Weavers were ready for―
the moment― of encounter―
to spin the corona.

As if an asteroid was heading
towards the silent ariel,
to destroy its integrity.

Beyond good and bad, there
was an effigy of a designer―
in dancing mode.

It was a jinx in your
speed. You would not climb on a
walk without a rope.



Satish Verma

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satishverma
Author satishverma
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Date 2016/9/29 6:13:49
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