My poetry (4)


Words like arrows
won’t hit when the markings
are not correctly made.
The emblem should not fail to reveal
the place of sorrow and hurt
so that the release is perfect
and in no way   misses the target.

The horseman rides with a torch in one hand
and a trident in the other
The difficulty of the ride makes the thrill
of the adventure an assured possibility.

The night lives on for a while longer.

As the erosion takes place into the horizon
Loud cries culminate into a burst of flowers all around.

The ageless pit down which all desires are poured into
waits for no other dream than bending the head
in a solemn bow of silence
for the sinner to stick to the common     worldly norms.

Shelter is the sky for some words on earth.

Children play on this earth
as long as the soil is washed with tears
and toil of human hands.

Words continue to wander
till the poem becomes a sure possibility.

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