now it's morning
But it is as quiet as a crematorium
nor the cuckoo's cuckoo
no chirping of birds
no cock crows
looks like this in the morning too
Like he's not alive
She just wants to stay alive.
It grows slowly, it moves forward in the morning
which it does in the morning and afternoon
There are many sounds in it
But these voices make curious noises
Their voices are not there in this
Which turns this morning into afternoon.
This caravan of noise moves forward
where the noise is less
But even in this noise
nor the trickle of waterfalls
Neither do insects nor insects make sounds.
Just in this noise, even in the evening
The name of being alive is evening.
evening is also falling
and it gets dark too
But where is night in this darkness?
No frog croaking
Nor does it have the faint glow of fireflies
not to be afraid - to scare
The sound of a fox-jackal is
Owls are no longer visible at night
Now it gets dark
night is in the name of night
About the Creator
Suraj poetry plus
Of these thoughts that human has become the most important species in the world, it is these thoughts that have made man the son of God or the son of Satan, therefore whatever your thoughts may be, they are important.
I am write my thoughts
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A Dart at Dusk
Seconds ago, the sullen sun set on the two of us… my exuberant furry companion and me. A fresh breeze embraces us, delivering welcome relief from the day’s oppressive heat. His typical stumbling and staggering along — apace with a sloth — has turned into trip-trapping, high-stepping, almost skipping along.
By Angie the Archivist 📚🪶2 days ago in Petlife
Comments (2)
Oooo, this was so deep! Loved your poem!
Amazing poem! Well written!