Unbecoming Of The Poem

by Satish Verma   Dec 20, 2019


The fat moon
rises, when the bland earth
gives a call.

Like the black magic
of depression, in fall,
overwhelming the silence.

Of not becoming, what
you wished me to be,
or not to be.

A conflict always,
climbs the wall to overlook,
the pain of separation.

This winter, I am not
going to witness, the death
of night birds.

    report violation
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Latest Comments

  • 4 years ago

    by Milly Hayward

    This is my favourite of your recent poems. The start with its contrast of a fat moon and bland earth caught my attention straight away because the earth in reality is quite beautiful from space. It had to be a metaphor for how someone felt about themselves. The third stanza for me drew everything together neatly the conflict revealed and further laid out in the last two. An enjoyable read. Milly x

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