A Sea Of Moons

Folder: 
Satish Verma

You are pinned on the
board to don the cap of watchman.
Jasmines go nomads.

To alter the nomenclature
of pain, to take a nap in the rose
garden. You cannot move a mouse.

Violets are raising hands.
The voices are dim. It is getting
dark. Two small eyes roam.

View satishverma's Full Portfolio
J-C4113d's picture

Your use of imagery in this

Your use of imagery in this poem is excellent.


J*Called (in Chrismation, Januarius)