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pradip-chattopadhyayPoems
#When moon like an empty plate mocks the hunger the famished bones hunt for a morsel. Clinks of cutlery fires the belly aroma of meals calls like a melody *there's a table full of happy faces chewing and chuckling and chattering picking eating dropping and littering their plates are full aha never less food after food over food always a fire in oven a bed of clean sheet never they're they're never short of heat eyes that are heavy droop easy soon behind tightly shut windows to the moon*. Snuffed out will ***** out all traces of light they break into wails rending the night nothing now moves over the dead town except the bones with moon as the crown.
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Nov 23, 2016
Nov 23, 2016 at 8:47 AM UTC
Dead Town
#When moon like an empty plate mocks the hunger the famished bones hunt for a morsel. Clinks of cutlery fires the belly aroma of meals calls like a melody *there's a table full of happy faces chewing and chuckling and chattering picking eating dropping and littering their plates are full aha never less food after food over food always a fire in oven a bed of clean sheet never they're they're never short of heat eyes that are heavy droop easy soon behind tightly shut windows to the moon*. Snuffed out will ***** out all traces of light they break into wails rending the night nothing now moves over the dead town except the bones with moon as the crown.
pradip-chattopadhyay
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pradip-chattopadhyay
Nov 23, 2016
Nov 23, 2016 at 8:47 AM UTC
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