Monday, September 21, 2009

mist





Earth hasn’t clayed
A maternal visit, pending.
It hasn’t poured…
Love
body lay uncarpeted
wrinkles tentacle
all over. The fort thus winds down,
Breeding age-old pain
spurting blood into a lifeless soil
The cropland left ungrazed
tiller leaves
spilling his daylong sweat
Dust clouds on the endless route
The village thus sinks in the coat of an unflavored mist.
________________________________________________-
(p.b)

1 comment:

  1. beautiful,
    spellbound thnx for this fantastic piece
    ,u no i m learning so many things from you,
    thnx again

    ReplyDelete