Private Moorings

searching for words in continuum of
incompleteness, it was a trickle at first, then
a free fall, cerebral fury: I am becoming expansive,
so apposed to verbatim of shrieks, only

in whispers I will talk to delphiniums,
I would walk inside the time capsule, come
and sit besides me for a while, I am tired of

this ghost town, and fleeing shadows of
waning luminories on the horizon in

half-naked blooms; on different shores
U-boats are being lowered with torpedos. I am

waiting for the hurricane

poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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