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poetry
Satish Verma, 29 april 2023
Path Taken
It will not happen
again, the eye contact
with swaying moon.
Smoke was rising
from heaps of dead leaves
from distant garden.
You become a past
in the hands of slaughterer.
Ethos plays game.
Satish Verma, 28 april 2023
The Power To Burn
Shy from finding
the depth of your being?
I was walking on the
cobbled shadows.
Like thinking of
afterlife, when you were
preparing legacy of black moon.
Who would not do it?
Would you go to
the fire temple to know
the age of dying god?
Space widens between the eyes.
The grid cannot
hide the deepening chasm.
Your musing shifts. A pen,
the paper and words assemble.
Satish Verma, 27 april 2023
In Disquietude
You were lost
in this brutal world
I was a failed truth.
Exotic your heart
still sings for the future
of awakening.
Very old, very pained
were our wounds.
Man was rising every night.
Why were you not
present at sunset, when
twilight was burning
in moon?
You need a gift
of grave to stay cool
when the sky was burning?
Satish Verma, 26 april 2023
The Poem Before Meaning
Choosing the dusk
before dawn to halt the
flowers beheading.
It wriggles like
snake, the time. No wait
between life and death.
Take me to deep
sea of pain. I will never
count falling stars.
Satish Verma, 25 april 2023
Elusive Peace
One scripts one's
own doom, standing at the
bank of a dried river.
Bone china reflects
the destiny of ‘being' in war
of grounded ships.
Limbs take you back
to the ruins of young night
outside of moon.
Satish Verma, 23 april 2023
Gifted Hands
I don't hear
I don't speak.
Only the ink flows-
without words, waiting
for birth mother.
Water breaks.
A poem is born.
Satish Verma, 22 april 2023
Blue Lights
In lost island,
water and boat, I
will never know you.
A volley of stings.
I bleed inside, without
single drop falling out.
There will be no
tiara, to put on the head
of pain.
Play on flute,
before the sunset. I
want to invite fireflies.
The numbers don't
agree. War continues for
the red sea of tears.
You won't reach
your abode alive.
Satish Verma, 21 april 2023
A Pinch Of Salt
Was there a purpose
to wear mascara
and nestle in giant
clouds?
You scare me
holding the candle
burning at both ends.
What was the
confusion before jumping
from the bridge?
O moon, I always
loved the honey color
of your skin, before
collecting ashes.
Who had created this maze,
I will never know.
Satish Verma, 20 april 2023
Becoming Yourself
The fear right
below your skin, festers.
I listen to hissing sound of
simmering muse.
Space between the
words suffers. There was
no meaning left by
unspoken ties.
The castle of dreams crumbles, brick
by brick, in the hands
of sleeping volcanoes.
You need a
snake charmer to sway
the beauty of crooked
smile of time.
I still watch the trap.
Satish Verma, 19 april 2023
Sacred Horse
Charging at the
huddled moon, palm
leaves release the
elixir.
I watch a beautiful
death dance, pouting
her lips,
very quiet.
Oh, precious pain,
come again. The
rock wants to
commit suicide.
My entreaty
will not reach the
heavenly bird, I want
to walk on holy sin.
Satish Verma, 18 april 2023
The Myth Of Truths
After you gave me a
split rupture,
there was a mirror pain.
The bruises get away
without mercy. A hand will
write reversely a poem.
You cannot erase
the stink, which comes from
the mouthless words.
And the triangle
will eat the floating bodies
of bloated dreams.
Who always chased
me with subtlety, when
hills were crumbling.
Moon becomes lunatic.
Satish Verma, 17 april 2023
Take Back Your Swallows
You let go, of me
to wear the hawthorn's
crown, to probe, what I
wouldn't know.
In the ending was
beginning of a fragile
kiss of waning moon, before
the daffodils fall on ground.
I try to forget
the number of steps you
have not taken towards
the moment of enormity.
The laced wounds
prepare to make water
thin for the sleetof
salt water in red eyes.
Satish Verma, 16 april 2023
What You Were Not
In soundless
landscape, I will meet the
ultimate, waking pain
of understanding.
Back and forth
pillars of strength would fall.
Nothing else will shock me.
Measureless I become.
Do you see a halo
around the moon? She was
the goddess of a
lost songbird.
I want to stop
thinking. I owe you the
holy truth. Life was
no more grainy.
Satish Verma, 15 april 2023
Suffering
When I ask for
the innovation, you
lob the moon.
Glass and sand
in your eyes, melt into
kisses. There was no
other way.
You cannibalize my
poems, make a statuette
and wear the pendant.
You stone a wall
of paper. Why did it
carry the names of
failed gods?
You watch the stream
of tears feeding the red
poppies about to be
slaughtered.
Satish Verma, 13 april 2023
Want To Think?
What you will not
say, after becoming cosy
with the moon in sleep walk?
Holding my hand,
you wanted to squeeze
time for the sake of fallen
star in the black sea
of ifs and buts.
The tears were
great solvent, when you
inhaled the fumes of
karma, to go high.
The seizure will
come again, wrapped in
golden shroud, against the
hope of suicide.
Meditation brings
sweet music.
Satish Verma, 12 april 2023
Maturity
Black tree
feeds the blood root.
There will be no sonic
connectivity.
How could I love
you so, at moonrise?
Shall I say the watercolor
has been washed?
It was not the culture
and style of time. The
renaissance wants to extract
the rare price.
Crisp nouns would
take revenge on the
unuttered words. The sacred
ism was no more valid.
Let the clouds cover
the bleeding sky.
Satish Verma, 11 april 2023
Ephemeral Wings
Night was pregnant
with the moon.
The execution will follow.
An arrow finds
a path, which leads you
in fog of baby steps.
Adoration lived in
the narrow eyes of firefly.
The dark bush sways in
flightless arms.
Embrace of an
angel goes amorously
tense. Negation leaves a
deep wound.
There would be no exit―
of the trembling pain,
live on the flames.
Satish Verma, 8 april 2023
Fall In November
Hurting myself
in piecemeal to reach
your meanings.
Paradise lost―
for one day, when the makeup
goes in flames.
I will be in sea,
when the valley burns deep
and a Digambara
finds the truth.
The mob was arranged
in place. Wasps had very
thin waists, but stings
were sharp.
The smile was
venomous. You will not
live to see the slaughter.
Satish Verma, 7 april 2023
In Dustbath
The freckles were
appearing on the face
of Venus―
Arms broken.
A man-eater was shot
dead, while feeding.
The reddened skin
invites a vespa. Sometimes
you love the stings.
You wait for
the sunsets, before the
Venus flytrap shuts.
Drifting on the
dust road, I start
searching my lost address.
How will you hear
my voice?
Satish Verma, 6 april 2023
Most Gifted
The trauma will not go,
I will go to sea.
My lips reciting veda.
You hire the new currency
to buy a kiss of bodiless lover.
Sky offers the moon.
Infallible palm
spreads the leaves foe your
footfalls not to single
under the sun.
I speak wordlessly
you listen by eyes.
Mercy kissing comes
in vogue. You have increased
the surrender value
before the Agni.
Satish Verma, 5 april 2023
Who Was Creator?
I am scared.
You are becoming human,
looking back at the
colored leaves falling in autumn.
Was your pain
ripened? And you bled
poems? Ah you were the―
first wooly animal!
Surreal. Dancing
with beautiful words to
entice the lies. To woo
the narcisstic mode.
Thought of dying
shimmers like a fish in silvery
water. I won't throw
the net in your eyes.
River will not drink
its water.
Satish Verma, 4 april 2023
Hope And Despair
Home coming
was not true. A character
remained unread.
What image was
holy? You walk barefoot
after worship to listen
the voices of earth.
The volcano weeps
for centuries, waking
the flames one day. What
were the questions
which had no answers.
A pink bandana
becomes the heartache
of moon. No star was
worthy of you.
The book wipes out the
new sermons.
Satish Verma, 2 april 2023
Out Of Question
Will you break the
golden triangle, one day,
and come to river?
Time-lapse memory.
I will meet you midway to
hold your rough hand.
Do me a favor.
Write the other name of fire.
When you walk on the
sleepingvipers.
Can you push the
rock like Sisyphus after
refusing to color the night?
Rose is rose. Can
you commit for black petals
which will stay
in hot sun?
Andrzej Talarek, 1 april 2023
Psalm Siódmy. Sędzią narodów, Panie, byłeś zawsze.
Biblia Tysiąclecia: Modlitwa oczernionego
Jan Kochanowski: W Tobie ja samym, Panie, człowiek smutny
Księga Psalmów dzisiejszych: Sędzią narodów, Panie, byłeś zawsze.
Sędzią narodów, Panie, byłeś zawsze.
Dziś tym daliśmy sędziom spraw sądzenie,
co za pieniądze wyroki łaskawsze
mogą nam wydać po przystępnej cenie.
Więc nie czekamy na Twe rozstrzygnięcia,
bo zbyt odległe, trudne do przyjęcia.
A prawa nasze, choć nienaturalne,
pisane krzykiem pod dyktando tłumu,
w konstrukcji swojej są akceptowalne
dla ludzi biernych, wyzbytych rozumu.
Myśli zaś skryte w słowach uładzonych,
policja pozna jak Ty, Nieskończony.
Czego przez spowiedź do Ciebie nie ślemy,
na świat krzyczymy miliardami bitów
i słowa w sercu, i nerkach mielemy,
aż wyjdzie papka ni grzechów, ni shitów.
Za złudną tarczą firewalla trwamy,
opiekę Twoją na przyszłość chowamy.
Choć bywa chwila, gdy jesteśmy sami
z czymś, co sumieniem ciągle nazywamy,
nie definiując, myśląc sloganami,
gdy z nagłym krzykiem nocą się zrywamy.
Gdy dobroczyńcę lub wroga wspomnimy,
obu skrzywdzonych, i się zawstydzimy.
I ciemność lepka staje przed oczami,
w sufit myśl chroma uderza jak kamień,
niby ptak nocą, bo nie ma Cię z nami,
a sędziom sądzić nie daliśmy sumień.
Chcemy słać apel do wyższej instancji,
rojąc na jawie wydumane racje.
A kiedy wreszcie sen nas ukołysze,
zapominamy rankiem nasze zmory.
One przed śmiercią zabiorą nam ciszę,
całego życia wskrzeszając upiory.
I nie zdążymy wyjść z grzechów gęstwiny,
by przed Twym sądem stanąć już bez winy.
Satish Verma, 1 april 2023
This Panorama
Sitting on a white
rose, the miniature god
writes the lines of life.
Inside animal implodes.
The dark blue blood has a
weird relationship
with broken limbs.
Dismembered,
I don't want to die again.
The bright Ariel claims
for the rebirth.
Was there a promise
to repair the flesh torn
out from the bones
of faith?
It is too much dark
here, I don't see your face.
Satish Verma, 31 march 2023
Ash On Roses
I am, because
you are not there.
In cold blood
you slice the moon
and drink the tears.
The forest path
opens for the shot
tigress. She will
survive.
A mysterious hand
picks up my name to
write a wounded
poem.
There was no war
between the gatherers
of blood-soaked shirts.
Will you come back
bone, flesh, heart?
Satish Verma, 30 march 2023
Lost Tribe
At life closing,
were you in peace
with your slips?
The weariness brings
a curse. You start
shredding.
Like a newfound
fossil egg, you kiss
the lost poem.
A dependent
wound stops hurting.
I bring a stoned version.
The moon and the
resurrected dream,
throw long shadows on lake.
My boat goes in flames.
Satish Verma, 29 march 2023
Not In Wake
Your theme will
not endure the momentous
push. Stars are falling
one by one.
In row of skulls
time stands still, to revise
the angle of moon. Now
the words haunt. We are
in peace.
Will you embrace
the religion of trespassing
against rituals? You were
the creator, you were the destroyer.
Venus sleeps naked.
Talking of self, we
forget the nature of
vicious vipers. Can you play
with the flames of past?
Which of the god was not
a love child?
Satish Verma, 28 march 2023
Every Moment
Do not unveil the
wound of errors.
Let me in―
in your green eyes, where
the goddess weeps.
The terror changes
the polarity. You were in chains,
fighting the demons of sea.
Unlike moon, a star
plunges in valley of tears.
Who will measure
the depth of fall, from the
edge of life? Time has the
wings of golden eagle. It
flies on the peaks of thoughts.
And the merciless
gray of dementia wipes
out the words.
Satish Verma, 27 march 2023
Caretaker
Cannot undo, the
headless leap of faith.
It was not the answer.
A thousand moon
I will wait for the calamity, when
you come back with empty hands.
Playing Mozart,
I discover myself in the
jungle of antlers.
The grief survives
eternally. I arrange all
the words to spell correctly,
a white death.
The black tree
stumbles on pale moon.
The angel will not
open the door.
Latest comments:
28 april 2024
samoA
dziękuję. uśmiech posyłam
27 april 2024
Jaga
Bardzo, widać że dobrze mu z oka patrzy ;)
27 april 2024
On tak dostojnie chodzi, że to czysta przyjemność
27 april 2024
kb
hm tutaj pokazano niejako wprost sprawcę światła.
27 april 2024
sufit, uśmiech i barany... no tak to jest, sama
27 april 2024
"wszystkie modlitwy wymyślili grzesznicy"
27 april 2024
social-real. bardzo fajnie ujęte
26 april 2024
jeśli tylko
właśnie :)
26 april 2024
Adam Pietras (Barry Kant)
Dzięki, Violetta!
25 april 2024
violetta
Dziękuję:)
25 april 2024
Bociany są takie ufne:)
25 april 2024
Yaro
Bardzo kobiecy wiersz:) Pozdrawiam:)
28 april 2024
Jaga
28 april 2024
Satish Verma
27 april 2024
Jaga
27 april 2024
Satish Verma
26 april 2024
wiesiek
26 april 2024
Satish Verma
25 april 2024
wiesiek
25 april 2024
Satish Verma
24 april 2024
Satish Verma
23 april 2024
Adam Pietras (Barry Kant)