fears

eyes half open, a face with no skin , but muddy flesh
screams, from far and near.
hynotism is not of charm, but of ugliness,
in the porness of mob.
hiding behind each other, and they create
countless crawling legs.
with swarming hands,merging in and out.

maroon red sky,weak blue clouds
each stone pebble small or big lying on the floor seem
like overrun ambitions,
no different from another except in size.
some text engraved over a stone,
of conquests,triumph,glory.


such deep were their fears.



Poetry by vijay shanker
Read 650 times
Written on 2008-08-01 at 18:20

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