Bare Tongue

by Satish Verma   Aug 12, 2017


It was
a killing line.
Walking on razor wire,
when toes would not leave the sky
and heels will not touch the ground.

Myths and legends
were becoming a witchcraft.
Are you ready to eschew the classical script
and write a new fable, about
a life size robot,

who will speak for millions
and put his signature on the wall
of a dying moon for the sake of blue clouds?
The caldron is empty. No body was
throwing any baby in it.

Stay still.
The bold instincts will come back with vengeance.

    report violation
2


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Latest Comments

  • 6 years ago

    by mossgirl19

    This is beautiful and haunting to the bones!

  • 6 years ago

    by CJ Maleney

    The thought process you had when writing this eludes me but can I just say I love it for what it is, suppose that's the beauty of poetry.

    Craig

  • 6 years ago

    by Milo

    To be honest I don't even know what you are talking about, but I love it. Blue clouds? Empty cauldron? Robot leading a revolution maybe? This poem remind me of the scene in the 2011 (I think) of the reboot of freddy kreuger nightmare when at the beginning he was dreaming of all the weird things and pigs in the pots on fire in the kitchen. This poem also for some reason makes me think of heronymous bosch and one of the paintings, thinking what kind of fable is being depicted here. Great poem. And please don't be offended I'm writing on instinct ha.

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