poetry

poetry
Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 28 march 2020

A Lone Prayer

Leave your seminal
expression with minimal
damage.I am excluding the
human race.
Your chin protrudes
when you think aloud.
Were you becoming-
a unique animal in haste?
 
The man has the
erectile ego as that of
gastropod mollusk.You will
never cross the Atlantic chasm.
 
You always wear
a slippery shell externally,
when your thoughts are born.
God save this earth.


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steve

steve, 26 march 2020

"Wasn't Enough"

What can I say.. that hasn't been said...
Of dreams I had.. that now, are all dead,
Love wasn't enough to help you to see...
All that you had.. when you still had me,
And it wasn't enough.. that I've always been here...
As you make up excuses.. to just disappear,
And love wasn't enough.. as you still raised your hand...
While love trickled away... like hourglass sand,
Bruises and blood... heartache and pain...
What you called love... I call insane,
I know that it hurts... I've been hurting for years...
As I try to explain away all the tears,
Now it's too late... there's nothing to save...
There's only goodbye... as I walk away.


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steve

steve, 26 march 2020

"Your Wish Is My Command"

I think about you all the time.. "much more" than I'd admit...
For you are the addiction...  I can't bring myself to quit,
I can't let go these dreams of you.. and I can't walk away...
And just a fragment of a chance.. is enough to make me stay,
You've but to say the words.. for "your wish is my command"...
There's nothing that I wouldn't do.. for you are my last stand,
I only want to love you.. and lay down by your side...
My heart is weary from the tears.. and the years that I have tried,
Is it wrong to want to feel the part.. of you that few will see?
To take you by the hand.. and show what lives inside of me,
I can't make you care at all.. if its something you don't feel...
And to spend the night... if I must fight.. then I don't think I will,
If you can't see what's in my heart... if by now you want no part...
Then set me free and watch me fly... no more words just goodbye.


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steve

steve, 26 march 2020

"Here and Now"

When I ask to spend some time with you, and I get no reply...
I want sometimes to turn and run, so you won't see me cry,
I know that I am not what you want, but I've got what you need...
So give me half a chance with you, but I won't beg and plead,
I'm not asking to be your boyfriend, I'm not asking for your hand...
I just want to spend some time with you, and try to understand,
To show you something you've not seen, to go where you've not been...
To pick you up when you fall down, so you can start again,
You know what my heart feels for you, is out of my control...
And everything that's good in me, is reaching for your soul,
Darkness is so lonely when you spend your nights alone...
And the echo's of your yesterdays, are the seeds you have sewn,
Knowone knows the future, where here and then we're gone...
So let me hold your heart to mine, until the morning dawn,
For I have more to offer than I'm given credit for...
And if you'd just surrender, I could show you so much more,
The future hasn't happened yet, and the past is yesterday...
It's "here and now" that matters most, just tell me that you'll stay.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 26 march 2020

Uncanny Feeling

It was a strange experience
coming out of the body
to understand the death.
 
And I watched a train
whistling by―
then I understood,
 
time will not wait for me.
I started running
against the moon―
 
to forget the empty dream,
catching a fever.
I am still burning―
 
in grass, collecting
the dew, falling
from the misty night.


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steve

steve, 25 march 2020

"Long Ago"

I used to dream about you, now those are days gone by...
I learned too well the hard way, how you could make me cry,
I can't explain why I'm drawn to you, because I don't even know...
Maybe in another life, I loved you long ago,
When I'd look into your eyes, it'd take my breath away...
And words did not come easy, for things I wished to say,
I'd gaze upon your beauty, and the world would disappear...
While life goes on around me, it's only you, I'd hear,
I wanted just to love you, the only way I know...
Like a dream the haunts me every night, from a life of long ago,
I thought I knew what love is, but I've never felt such pain...
Tear my heart out of my chest, then do it all again,
I know that you will never care, I know that I'm alone...
I know that you will break my heart because your's is made of stone,
And though the storm is coming, I still want to try...
Because it's easier to say "I love you"... then it is to say "goodbye".


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 25 march 2020

Silence Of The Falls

Nothing helps.
The colossus has failed.
A naked fakir-
walks in dark moaning.
 
You ride a torpedo
to kill the gossips.It
misfires.All around
us is deep water.
 
An avalanche buries
the camp.You will not
climb the peak now.
 
The goddess is stripped
and alighted from
the rock.Let us pray
for the wildfire.
 
The sparks become the tears.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 24 march 2020

Wafer-Thin

Wearing a straitjacket
you come out in open.
This was a black day.
You were not invited.
 
The economy smells of stale fever.
 
A pungent smoke rises
from the joints.
 
A decision drifts. Scare of
paper bomb stills―
the flow of tea.
 
There was a party.
People come and go. Skullcaps
galore. White on brown sugar.
 
There is no love lost between us.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 23 march 2020

Head Wound

Twitching will not stop
after you hit the bull's-eye.
Somewhere a nightbird,
had a hallucination, moon was
scared to come out.
 
The game we play all
the time. Tracing blue nudes
on the beds. A gang rape
went unnoticed by the
diehards.
 
A sphinx was rising in
east. What you have done
to stall the riddle of winged monster
sailing like hawk moth,
drinking your honey?


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RENATA

RENATA, 22 march 2020

III wirusa odsłona -chaos końca

skaza wymknęła się 
spod kontroli
chwila prawdy nadeszła
nie będzie odkupienia 
egzekutor wstanie napięcia

patrzcie

zamknięto wszystkie sklepy
galerie kina i koncerty
to czym żyją paszcze 
portfele schudły w barwach  głodu
dusić się kisić gnić w domu 

rozejdzcie się wszystkie 
znaki zodiaku tak trudno 
żyć wroku Szczura
tylko jeść spać i srać 
zamknięci w kostce Rubika
drugiego człowieka unikać

panika rozprzestrzenia się dalej 
domowa kwarantanna -nie kaszleć
 powietrza bo ziemia ze swoim urobkiem
będzie jednym wielkim nagrobkiem


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RENATA

RENATA, 22 march 2020

pod kopułą znawcy artykułów niezbędnych

wrzuciłem Ci garść słów
które chciałaś usłyszeć 
w kosmiczną ciszę właśnie 
miały zabrzmieć jak opłatek

wrzuciłem Ci kłody
mówisz że pod nogi
a ja tylkko chcę  Cię podnieść 
przenieść w swój raj

wrzuciłem Ci garść przekleństw 
do ucha
zabijały od środka drżenie rąk
bóle brzucha
gaśniesz i wybuchasz 
w drodze do gwiazd

wrzuciłem Ci dysk 
zdalnie sterowany do głowy
teraz wiesz co masz robić 
mam pilot kierujący twoim ciałem
Ty naszego szczęścia kluczem









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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 22 march 2020

Artifacts Of Pain

My unique offer:
I want to embrace your
downtrodden faith.
 
A continuous buzz makes
me nostalgic of my
rendezvous with a walking
fern in early dawn of
enigma on limestone.
 
Would you mind to stand still
in blue light to-
read the unwritten command
of astragalus?
 
Where you want to
go to find yourself in
the black autumn of ashen faces?
 
The ice. A brittle
transparent truth of water.
Can you walk on the frozen lake
of eyes?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 21 march 2020

Short Melody

It had touched, the wind
of sky.
 
The viola goes―
pansexual.
 
Purple, blue and white
dog violet,
one of the petal was
landing gear for politics.
 
A fugitive poet
grumbles, eating the dark words.
 
After suicide, the viscera
was found blank, except
the half-eaten plums.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 20 march 2020

Against Tattoos

Don't print on the body
a pattern, grayesh red.
Damask rose?
The cilia will propel you
into the tunnel.
 
Clowns have assembled
on the street, to write
the history of fall.
Acts of kindness are being
translated into profanities.
 
You are hurt by the
petals, thrown at you.
Kingmaker, why you have become
a joker?
 
Red lilies?
Do you like the buttercups?
Eyes ago, there was a bouquet.
I am not sure, why you were walking
on nails.


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RENATA

RENATA, 19 march 2020

klaustrofoczka

mówiły małe ludziki zza szafy
trzeba ją zniszczyć 
odłubać z resztek godności 
zabić 

szeptali w okolicy po kątach
ona taka paskuda niedobra
śmierdzi śmierdzi piwskiem
w dzień i rankiem
gdy drzwi niezamknie
gnój wylewa się pod nogi
śmierdzi śmierdzi jej pokój ubogi

mówili głośno na forum 
nie chcemy tu sodomy i gomory
zabierzcie stąd flejtucha
winna niewinna odejść musi

już już jedna i druga artystka
urządza teatr i pośmiewisko
rzuciły znowu hasło
wkurwieni  nie mogą zasnąć 
skrzypią dziury w głowie 
odejdż odejdz odejdz 

kto jest bez winy niech ukrzyżuje
wywiezie na taczkach w gębę napluje
rozejrzyjcie się wokół małe ludziki
kto zaszczuty przez was cierpi
kozła znalezć nietrudno
wywołać burzę z gówna

nakarmić dobrym słowem duszę
człowieka przez los bitego 
wtedy karma nie wróci 
do ciebie ani pokolenia twego





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RENATA

RENATA, 19 march 2020

w drugiej odsłonie wirusa w domu siedzieć musza

w drugiej odsłonie pandemii
poeci napiszą kilka wierszy
roztworzą się w panice oczy
niemy krzyk pod maską stoczył
bitwę między boję a nie boję
dam radę i nie mam siły stoję

każą uciekać do swoich krajów z niczym
żeby się nie udusić strachem wilczym
w kolejce po rozum nie chcą stać nogi
one biegną aż do ślepego upadku po papier toaletowy
słabnie i kładzie się spać gospodarka
gospodarz nie pilnuje interesu tylko w kuchni garnka 


w drugiej odsłonie pandemii bledną
twarze ministrów miny i włosy rzedną
zamknij buzię drzwi i okiennice
siedż w domu i nie wychodż na ulicę





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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 19 march 2020

Wearing Out

Are you there to listen
my voice,
in the wilderness of violence
and other atrocities?
 
My toes were hurt
in uncharting the path
of arms and rams in avenging
the dead silence.
 
You will get back
what I did not give you
in the aftermath of tragiccomedies.
 
Life walks by pink
pythons to trade the peace
on the name of gods.
 
The calamity of the angels
to become hard warriors.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 17 march 2020

Pained Reproaches

The shadows sit,
under the words, to torture,
to bring,
perse memories.
 
A downfall,
precedes,
before the crash of
existence.
 
Ah, you know,
what makes your saints
blue? The sematic shooting
stars?
 
The anxiety was,
how to stop thinking
of becoming,
a vigilante.
 
The mid-night raid
was most unsuccessful attempt
to rape.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 16 march 2020

The Daily Ritual

The cells,
climb the fame,
unperceived.
 
A bit of nose, blue eyes,
jugglery of stances.
You catch the body art.
 
The eagle
dives, for a legal kill.
Hail, the beautiful
execution.
 
To shut the voice,
you bring in, snow,
white blanket for every
one deprived.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 15 march 2020

When The Ghosts Walk

A mystical dialogue
in swirls-
to drown you.
 
Blank pages draw you
for a suicide, without
moving your bones.
 
A thin worded threat
to conceive a sculpted
dream, deranging
your sea of
cadavers.
 
No dissecting table
you need to solve the death.
All the arguments are tilted.
You will rig the answers.
 
They will come
in bunches, to beat you.
You will not hear or see anything.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 14 march 2020

Darkness Singing

Like today.
I walk myself, in my footprints
tasting grassiness
sending the runners,
on the anniversary, of the brain's death,
when no deliverer was in sight.
 
The empty chairs in black rain
wait for the parted windows
to let in the screaming light
for a reunion, with the children
of tongue, who were lost
in wilderness of vows.
 
Looking at the world
from a keyhole, at an unearthly hour
you viusalize a miracle,
to heal the blood apart, wounded
grains of golden dawn, a mother
thrashing for charred hunger.


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RENATA

RENATA, 13 march 2020

2020-w pierwszej odsłonie wirus w koronie

wypuścili puszkę Pandory
niby niechcący
w małych światach ktoś ujrzał
zagrożenie

myj ręce 
w rytm muzyki 
bo wokół zakątek dziki
dość już dowcipów 
histerycznych radiowców
gdy ryzyka bez liku
chcę zostać w domu
njlepiej pod poduszką
z pełną lodówką 


Każde państwo 
próbuje rozłożyć parasol
państwo Kowalscy zaczęli kaszleć 
słyszą to wszyscy w poczekalni
-Do domu!-Nie ma masek!
leczcie się sami lub umierajcie 


Kładą nam do głowy sztukę higieny
zainfekowanych 
oddzielić wyeliminować wymienić 

Teraz  mamy kłopot
żeby nie umrzeć śmiercią głodową 
ostatecznie biegniemy 
z wielką paniką 
bo te makarony sosy i ryże 
pozwolą na przeżycie 

zakryć się płaszczem czterech ścian 
i czekać czekać czekać ..............



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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 13 march 2020

An Angst

Was it kosher to wake
up a sleeping poem, when
someone has burned the book?
A rite of passage
between the poppies?
 
The soaked swans
were not ready to accept
the challenge of the defining moment.
 
A smart moon walks
behind me, snooping around the pines,
to drink the brazen lips.
 
Why small girl walks on the snow
to get the blessing
of the bells?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 12 march 2020

Innovational

You were shrinking
like microcephaly,
the mankind's evolution
in expanding universe.
 
The new thoughts-
do you think we were
always talking nonsense.
 
The real tragedy was
here, in your hands
when you held the
gun.
 
The lead in water,
and arsenic in earth.
Like celebrating the man's
victory on space and time.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 11 march 2020

Strange Journey

In-between the spaces
body moves
untouching you.
 
A poem crashes
on the tongue. You
will not confess.
 
The wordless thoughts
swim like swans
noiselessly.
 
Unreaching the abode,
you will invent a god
for a knifed boat.
 
The sea is turbulent,
you will still sail,
not to reach anywhere.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 10 march 2020

Snow Storm Rolls In

Poised to confront
the improvised explosive device
of winds,
 
good moonday
stands
in melting snow.
 
Church was
unselling the sex.


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RENATA

RENATA, 9 march 2020

nieskończoność uśpiona

co  noc 
z głębokiego grobu
wychodzą sny

śpi śpię śni 
dziewczynka i potwór
w ciemnym pokoju
pas idzie w ruch 
kołowy
pręgi i siniaki
aż do moczenia 
pościeli ze strachu

co noc 
wilgotność przeraża
przecież ciebie mamo
już nie ma 
to ja jestem starą kobietą

co noc 
jestem potworem
zabłąkane oczy córki 
błagają 

a ja wściekłą podnoszę pięść 
do utraty tchu i oddechu
wiara w pas wymaga pokuty
nikt mnie nie nauczył 
przytulać i kochać 


co noc szybkie bicie 
serca i razy spadające
słońce kwiaty i huśtawka 
córka i matka 
w snach 
jestem jedną i drugą 
czuję 
karę 
biorę i daję 
ból


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RENATA

RENATA, 9 march 2020

cisza

zaplątała się między wrony 
skuliła ramiona
wystraszona

zamotała się między lokami gorgony
strachem podniecona
złem płonie

zaszyta w kącie miedzy drzwiami a oknem
być czy odejść jeszcze 
zawyło w niej zwierzę 

już nożyczki bierze
by przeciąć nić Ariadny
zrzucić z pleców dom


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/1 | detail |


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 9 march 2020

Threnodial

Between the hope and
betrayal lies the truth-
a terra cotta version
of time.
A vitrified china will
not reflect your face.
 
You search the word's
tragedy, in a wound's
profile.
 
A speaking book repeats
the sermon.Do not
go after the questions.There
are no answers.
 
Prepare for the last rites
of porcelain.Only the plastic mind
knows the reality.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 8 march 2020

In Search Of Tremors

Night comes like a
black dog
around the corner.
 
I start paying off the debt
cry for cry, with a
ceremonial sword,
cutting off the shadows
falling from the
distant hills.
 
My questions are burning―
on pyre. How did I fail myself?
Why some mercy
was unacceptable to me?
 
Standing in midstream
I let go your hand,
and drown in quick sand of thoughts.
Now a poem will
lift me from the ruins.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 7 march 2020

Swift Descent

In cascading
tresses, when moon
got stuck.
 
I held your face
to see the frightened
fish in eyes.
 
Seven feet deep,
the snow-
escapes the man's foot.
 
A terrible fight
still goes on
between temple and mosque.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 6 march 2020

Nuit Blansh

I will gather you―
through the uproar,
when moon picks up the sneaky path,
from dizzying heights
of hunger.
 
The poverty of words
hides the bread, ..
You cannot eat an emblem.
 
The calibration has failed.
Milk contains the
contaminated water.
 
Everyone has one's own
book, where you write your name
and bear malice for everybody.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 5 march 2020

Mask Unmasked

To become or not to become a renegade,
or to die or not to die for a semi-god?
These were some of the questions
thrown at an incomplete script.
 
What elevated you to a celebrity?
Your hump or deep wrinkled groans?
Age is abating, abattoir is empty.
Exile from the past is over.
When you intend to comeback to childhood
and become a simple star?
 
Behind the mask lies the embrace of death
I am afraid the flames will engulf,
the genius of pathways.
Everything will turn into obsolete gossip.
A patch of sunlight becomes a costly exposure
bones are entwined in eternal cuddle.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 4 march 2020

Strange Politics

A soft, but me,
black moon
coming in bazaar.
Will you sell me the dreams?
 
Talking to grave silence
before the rains.
I will not plant
marijuana in your eyes.
 
O, ignorant prince,
my mother had left a legacy.
One should not sleep alone
to become poor.
 
I expect no applaud,
no cheers. I am a passer-bye
I have not killed
myself.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 3 march 2020

A River Flows Inside Me

You drape me, with wet kisses
O moon.
I will not forget you
in freezing rain.
 
At dangerous arch,
blue-veined―
milk in milk has made me red.
 
The ecstasy digs out
the hidden lyric,
I would never sing.
 
Will you find any
questions, to defeat the―
intimacy of a rape?
 
A hurt here, a bruise
there, my faded shirt
covers the poems.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 2 march 2020

Defeating Death

To you, I
send my silence,
before the fire starts, to engulf
the open barn.
 
This mourning must stop.
I will wash your feet, of mud
and wet grass. You have
come after crossing the jungle of black roses.
 
Tomorrow I will call swallows.
A peacock will replace the
ruined, plundered, silk poppies.
The bleeding sky turns blue.
 
On the road, echoes
of greedy words will eat the smiles.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 1 march 2020

Troubled Waters

Burning the pages
unread.
A daunting task
to rebuild the bruised relic,
 
of future, which I see
in my dream. This was―
the desire, till
the last flame dies out.
 
I am not sure of
myself. I will chase
a spider, climbing the
wall. I want to know where
 
it was heading, carrying
a headless fly, to bury
a spotless name in the
web of mortal threads.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 29 february 2020

My Chivalry

What happened? I would
ask the realness
of genocidal face.
 
The blue cock
was numb in the laser thin
commentary.
 
The face was mirror. You
can apply a salve by implanting a womb
in the barren dream.
 
Beheading a thought
was not sufficient to kill the theme.
It will come back with revenge.
 
OCD. I come back again and again to
look at the portrait
of a failed god.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 28 february 2020

Abstraction

Amnesia.
I want to drink tonight,
purple hellebore.
 
Like to protest―
the display of private things.
The humming.
 
The alphabet of
betrayal. Who wants
the award?
 
Amnesia.
I dream of dying,
feeding the doves.
 
Was it too early
to start getting dressed up
without a show?
 
Amnesia.
The hyphens don't
connect now the broken strings.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 27 february 2020

Poem

Not knowing―
was a bliss, writing
a poem.
 
Words fall―
Like small birds,
flying.
 
I pick up
the sorrow, of the
blue sky
inaudible.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 26 february 2020

Map Reading

In blood and grass
lies the snowman.
 
I must not look at it twice
after the spring melt.
 
The black magic has failed.
A mooned night will―
not reflect the real intent
of song's proxy in dark.
 
A lethal mix of twilight
and solstice, squats in gloom
to listen the surrender
of shine.
 
The glorious name, ultimately
drops the hint,
of profanity, written on wall.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 25 february 2020

Broken Armour

I hear your voice
coming from within.
The disconnect, the cultural clash,
from river,
from tree,
from the golden nest.
 
The circle was complete,
breech birth,
the explicit insult.
 
The parched moon―
will bring the cold
tears, to extinguish the sparks
going home.
 
The roadway leads
to nowhere land. You will
again meet the wounded
cuckoo which will always sing
the hurts.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 24 february 2020

Contemplating

It was just my time.
 
To become responsible for
me and I had become recluse,
to lose my memory,
to pay back my debt.
 
I am returning
the gifts,
of night, birth and
sacrifices.
 
The wheels―
had pulled me to slavery.
I am now floating,
wingless,
weightless,
for I cannot see―
 
the parental fall.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 23 february 2020

Blackest Mood

Indicted,
the firm grass―
will start a fire. I was trying
to find my path in smoke.
 
On fingertips, was at stake,
the creek's departure.
I would wear a mask
hiding my emotions.
 
We will wait for the spring.
There was still a mound of snow
at the door.
 
The rape of the moon
was not in cards. We were ready
to sit in moonlight, reading
our hands.
 
Philosophy of death
has many questions. Religion
of birth has many answers.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 22 february 2020

Say Cheese

Vespa,
the live wasp
of paper house,
feeding the insects
to little ones.
 
Silicon valley.
The oranges were very sweet
and carpet beetles
eating away the fabric.
I have come from a faraway place
to taste the blood-stained raisins.
 
Do you know why we bury
our truths? The ancient gods
were very pleased to eat them.
 
The hymns don't tell the lie.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 20 february 2020

Show Me Your Jewel Box

Not reaching somewhere,
I was not today,
what I was.
 
You seek a hand
for a handshake, and I watch
the dirt gathering
on the nails.
 
Sky does not give you
an award.The soot
collects on the windows.
 
The blue skulls dance
to defy the earth.No forehead
was formed.How would you
read the destiny?
 
I swear, I did not fathered
the deity in a-
monotheist gathering.
A black hijab covers
the moon.


number of comments: 2 | rating: 0/1 | detail |


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 19 february 2020

Watching The Lethality

I
 
The blend of gene and name.
How you carry the
legacy?
 
II
 
We are losing the war.
You are winning
the birds.
 
III
 
The sparrows have left
the nest of man,
in search of moving homes.
 
IV
 
How do you spell the ruins?
I have never seen
a perfect shape.
 
V
 
Chicken-livered.
Why did you try to
confront the wall?


number of comments: 1 | rating: 0/1 | detail |


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 18 february 2020

Blending

Lion's tooth, dandelion
in dead winter,
holds on to your dress.
 
*
 
for warmth. The oranges
are not meant
for sale.
 
*
 
The obituary was short
and sweet.
When would you die for me?
 
*
 
Wolves in white,
were very smart. A rose,
red rose for every martyr.
 
*
 
Behind the bars
you try to catch the sky
for the lilies.


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Tim Kitchen

Tim Kitchen, 17 february 2020

A Day In The Life Of Jacob

 
 
Even though it rises every day
somewhere, someplace in time.
On a day in the life of Jacob
the sun doesn’t often shine.
 
A shopping centre is bright and loud
and Jacob is sitting on the ground.
With his head buried in his hands
sensory overload of sight and sound.
 
People notice as he begins to shout
his Mother scared he’ll run away.  
Some think he’s badly behaved
but for him it’s just an Autism day.   
 
Later he escapes to his room
stressed and needing time alone. 
A meltdown at dinner hasn’t helped
but he’s calmer now, on his own.
 
Playing at length on his old guitar 
takes his mind to another place.     
Where the demons in his head       
for a while are not in his face.    
                 
Eventually he takes to his bed
and will rise, as soon as it’s light.
Probably won’t have much to eat
appetite dulled by a restless night.
 
People around him struggle to help
he tries to cope in his own way.
On a day in the life of Jacob
it’s always an Autism day.
 
But he deserves a chance in life
and we must strive to find a way.
For children like him, with future fears
to be able to seize the day.
 
 
 
 


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 16 february 2020

Unworthy Of Book

Handcuffed, you digress
from the vacuity. A bucket
full of hymns, will not―
erode, the fog of winter.
 
Let us start telling the
unsaid things of monstrous life.
The milk bath, the roaring and
the panther in the dry well.
 
The cortical pain, seeps into
the medulla. You will not find
a single soul, who will talk
about the fall.
 
The clocks are being moved
to save the light―
which splinters into myriad
faces, when you scream.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 15 february 2020

Water Was Transparent

A firefly in a jar
will not fly.
 
Presiding over the genocide
how can you count the dead
children of god, on the street,
by your forked tongue?
 
The roving eyes. Chameleons.
With folded hands, they
throw the snow on your
disheveled hair.
 
The morals are marketed
daily on the dais. I deny myself,
something which I can give
you. O hunger, don't go back.
 


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 13 february 2020

The Parable

Fear of staying in sidelines,
as a waning voice,
and falling in a drain.
 
You stand at the door of light,
and see the truth― boundaries
crumpling.
 
Afraid of transmission of lies,
interfacing long threads
of darkness.
 
It was extraneous, A
lot of heat generated by the
conversions. The doorkeeper remains the same.
 
The wisdom goes with
a begging bowl. Spirit was to
become an incomplete text.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 11 february 2020

Au Revoir

Skin deep, the moon
goes with me,
to bid goodbye to old year.
 
I have moved nearer
to the door knob,
of the unopened crypt.
The stale air leaks from the crumbling door.
 
The unfinished books
are under the frost. I cannot
shovel the walk. A grainy
picture emerges, of despair.
 
Going to dig up the ruins
to find the script.
Ink spills on the paper,
words depart.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 9 february 2020

Once Again

I hear again your voice
after injury pause.
 
An apologia.
It is still kempt,
the mist scented, milk bath
by moon, in dark.
 
In legendary night, everything was legitimate.
The licit kiss of death too.
 
One by one the faces
were missing. The snake bites,
of love.
 
The embroidered memories are
hanged to dry up in rain.
 
The eyes like moths, flicker around
the dark candle of another childhood.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 8 february 2020

Lynx-Eyed

The long tentacles return
to gather you,
in clawless loops.
 
What do you see in the godless
domain of winged
colts?
 
The colossus had
glaring flaws. Binary
curse falls like a barrel-bomb.
 
I remained oblivious
of the uncorrupted dawn,
rising from the ruins of fallen saints.
 
I am standing on the
grey rock, where black and
white meet. Time becomes a moment.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 7 february 2020

Nobody Can Say

Wearing raw beef,
speaking Buddha,
it was real time in dystopia.
 
I was wondering,
how to cheat life.
Crypts were empty.
 
Think, keep quite,
I would say, watching
the river go by.
 
The feral look, will
teach you suffer. There
was no ending.
 
Half-bird, half-mount―
You carry the burden
of undoing nemesis.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 6 february 2020

Reviving The Schism

A mentalist does not feel
secure, when you start
jaywalking in the empty street.
 
What was the need to
rescue a predator, when
the river was dry?
 
The ducks were crossing
the road. Stay put, till
the kids want to make a halt.
 
It was a renaissance
connection, when a clan is
sentenced to speak softly.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 5 february 2020

Unbecoming Of The Poem

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.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 4 february 2020

Avoiding The Virtue

In moments of hubris,
of artificial hip,
the most unknowable thing was
the blood thought.
 
An invisible ink, of late
marks the error
of autumn. A lone survivor
of leaves of time, would not
break the word.
 
The donated eyes will not
see the dreams. You can
boil the bones to get the truth.
Somewhere a guilt prospers.
 
It is what you don't think.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 1 february 2020

Ultimate Tongue

In praise of body
like a bow,
shooting arrows of clemency.
But I have come to deny myself,
the nemesis.
 
There was no penitence.
Unacceptable, in the light of
broad-day murder
of democracy.
 
Freedom to arc was a personal
style, writing poetry
against the art
of manipulation.
 
I am ready to become
human, after inferno, started
by you, to burn
the story.


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Fabrycy

Fabrycy, 31 january 2020

Purge

As it's physical 
And not projected 
Yet forseeable
It's still motion
A time beyond
The grain of care


number of comments: 1 | rating: 0/1 | detail |


Fabrycy

Fabrycy, 31 january 2020

European

Tendency clear and mild
Sometimes to allign with idleness.
Water in a cup of a color of ash
And endless habituated windows,
A frowzy shack with boiling roof.
 
Lazy impatience is common.
As it goes physical bare nowness
The uncareful become nervous;
But I rather hollow the precision
Of forseeable act.


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Mustapha Maaroufi

Mustapha Maaroufi, 31 january 2020

The Sun

The sun escapes from the daytime tiredness
To fall asleep in the night bed
And at the dawn
The day wakes up
To embrace it
And take it for its new journey.


number of comments: 4 | rating: 0/1 | detail |


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 31 january 2020

Song Of Promotion

I am not going to touch
the meaning―
of nativity for unknown
guests.
 
A cameo appearance of some
god, does not take away the
most recent fears
of death.
 
The ghosts have their own
defences against scars,
bruises and unstitched
bones.
 
Give me a piece of unleashed
poem, my odyssey
has begun in
earnest.


number of comments: 1 | rating: 0/1 | detail |


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 30 january 2020

With No Apology

On the mount
a broad-leaved tree was preparing
for self destruction.
It was too cold
under the sun.
 
A small Christmas tree
with its needle leaves
waits for the snow,
to draw a self-potrait
in bitter winter.
 
Snow fall makes it
gold, when rain comes
and my hand knives the moon.


number of comments: 3 | rating: 0/1 | detail |


Mustapha Maaroufi

Mustapha Maaroufi, 29 january 2020

A Position

For the wind
I will open my window
I am not inclining to the right side
There is a cough
A loss
As for the left side
I will remain waiting there
Under the green hope tree.


number of comments: 5 | rating: 0/1 | detail |


Fabrycy

Fabrycy, 29 january 2020

For Sylvia

Blue wall impresses as a first time paltry
Through its shades projected in the air and its immense
The glace is subsistent just on a moth not to purge
Somehow I like seeing it as still


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Fabrycy

Fabrycy, 29 january 2020

Worldplay

A view perfectly white

Ever calm mass of air

Stagnant field


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 29 january 2020

Phenomenal Defeat

A wine taster was
ready to begin the birth
of night.
 
A wrinkle displays
the absurd mediocrity
of the charter.
 
I will not play
in the hands of unknowable
I have my own map.
 
I am shedding,
my skin, my color. Only
a truncated god will speak for me.


number of comments: 1 | rating: 0/1 | detail |


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 27 january 2020

Émigré

It was not mental,
when you said, ―
in solstice, the body
and the physics of ashes become
one, the duality is lost
and indentation removed.
 
This fall it was a freak
weather. The tangerines are
covered with accusing ice. The
insomnia has set in the trees.
No body was sleeping
in gray.
 
Do not forget the prayer.
Retroactivily you can be pardoned.


number of comments: 2 | rating: 0/1 | detail |


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 26 january 2020

An Acrimonious Dialogue

The ambrosial ending
of the day. I was not sure
of myself. How would the
thumb mould the pen
in internal search
of cavities?
 
You are not going to live
hundred years. Falling from
the terrace, with a thud,
lying in the pool of blood, till you
find the celibate truth?
 
Between the dust and dawn
lies the dark. The oesophageal
reflux makes a hole
in each eye. Can you
read in the thick fog
of absent faces?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 25 january 2020

Winter Night

It was never meant,
to be the triumph
of the death
 
in the night of the snowfall.
The silent fall of flakes,
covering the stains,
would start a conversation
about the truth of life.
 
A journey to unknow the evil starts.


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Robt

Robt, 24 january 2020

Sublimation

Water exists in a triple state: 
          Solid, liquid, gas
At zero Celsius.
 
Even on the coldest day
Solid snow and ice quietly disappear
          Into gaseous vapor.
 
The radiant energy of the sun
          And time
Drive this transition
Until the solid ice is no more,
          Disappeared.
But no,
It still exists in the invisible vapor.
 
Do not we, aqueous beings
          -the waters of ancient seas
                   sloshing through our veins-
Exist at a triple point,
 
Slowly sublimating
Then suddenly gone,
Existing only in the hidden vapor
Of Time.


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Morgan

Morgan, 24 january 2020

On Helicon

In the golden light of morning
mists, morphing slowly to women, numb'ring nine
in chorus, they sang to Hesiod, the shepherd,
'We know how to tell lies that ring true,
but we can tell the truth when we've a mind'. 
'Oh, fine, replied Hesod, yawning--
you and the media'.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 24 january 2020

Sparkling

Moon in dying
on the icy bridge
 
as I stand in fog to hear the music
of hung verdict you are
 
not playing the carnal game
 
a threadbare dawn
still waits
for the liquid sun,
 
the moosewood is going to start a striptease


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 23 january 2020

16th December 2013

Leaning against the shadow
of self, starting the
monologue. With the fall
I don't want to think of the other.
 
The beasts.
I give a call, to someone
over there,
who will listen.
 
A systematic peel, opens
the doorless cage and
sets free the malignancy―
 
to spread. Now multiple argan
failure, stares at you,
celebrating the anniversary
of the rape.
 
We are made up of
charcoal, writing on the walls
with dark fingers―
name of the victim.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 22 january 2020

Feeding The Past

I take me,
in the whirlpool of bridges
for a nonprofit.
 
Gathering on rocks
begins. Moonlight reads
quickly, the faces.
 
I would not give you
my speech, my blindness.
Become mute like the call of
a mountain.
 
A broken cry will save
the poetry, the river,
the sea.
 
An old adage brings
the solace.
Somewhere a truth sings.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 21 january 2020

Reminiscing

I catch the sadness
of gray woods. Stone by
stone, gathering the twilight
of fall.
 
Would you walk with me,
my fallen peaks,
to witness the cold and wet
dark?
 
A deep silence sings
in my inside. I scoop
out the golden hole of
pain.
 
The endless pathway,
where, you will find my
immortal verse kissing the
white snow.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 20 january 2020

Naked As Ice

Howling wind!
Why were you gathering the―
dead leaves, sweeping
the desolate white road?
 
A bleak and dismal emptiness
in-between, the
no man's land.
 
Thousand eyes watch the tiny flurries.
The perfect peace,
descends.
 
From moon's navel,
falls the golden bloom.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 17 january 2020

Skipping The Steps

A tree waits to hug me
after shedding the
leaves. The man
 
becomes a child, entwining
the snaking trunk
for a brush with infinity.
 
The supreme dedication
become humane, enough
to kill the non-man.
 
A lethal mix of
parodies brings a comic
relief to sparring partners.
 
After all you discover
the white fog, god-made
to unlisten the lyrics.


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RENATA

RENATA, 16 january 2020

dopadnę cię

dopadnę Cię krzyknął Zdzich 
ja wcale się nie będę kryć 
dopadnę Cię w wannie 
umyję starannie 
pagórki brzoskwiń kolumny ud
aż stanie się cud

Dopadnę Cię w windzie
nie uciekniesz nigdzie
będę mógł
dotrzeć do twych nóg
przez próg

Dopadnę Cię letnim popołudniem 
na schodach
połączymy dom herbatą przy stole
o czterech rogach
aby potem przekroczyć 
granice rzeczywistości
bliskość Twych warg 
rozgniotę swoimi
jak słodkie maliny
a Ty wcale nie będziesz 
krzyczeć gdy 

dopadnę Cię w trawie
kolorowe kwiaty będą podglądać ciekawie
wyłuskam z zielonej sukienki
czerwone maki i oczu błękit
zachwieję równowagę 
kiedy Cię dopadnę



number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/2 | detail |


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 16 january 2020

White Lies

It was a glass house.
A burning boat capsizes
in milk body, creating
a schism.
 
Relentlessly, a classical theme
was furloughed. I
refuse to sell,
sell anything.
 
A deemed thought is
nurtured, hiring the
tall grasses, to hide
the kill. I am writing―
 
a poem of falling leaves
to eat the huge steps
of a giant, who started
the blood time.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 15 january 2020

The Immaculate Descent

The God refuses to accept
the infant universe.
After the elusive cues, there were
antique radiations to prove
that there was a diplomatic suicide.
 
A bit of grass,
some moon, little water
of eyes, the eternal embrace and
life starts earnestly in the
qualms of terror.
 
Washed out on the shores, comes
the body of liberty. The blood caked
limbs will tell you the tale
of tribal instinct, of mankind to
destroy the self, the
vessel and the sea.
 


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 14 january 2020

Standing In Fog

A diminutive moon
will ask about the infinity
of blackness, when I
was waiting in November night
of a toothed fall
in a missing success.
 
Ahead of time, you
punch the wailing trunk
of the fallen tree. I had the taste
of honey, but who am I,
a giver of anonymity?
 
Withering in a fire house
without door. I have come back
to know my ancestory. This
was my home once, in the
ancient history of man. This
was the gift, this was the dawn.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 13 january 2020

The Reverie

It was devastating.
Out of boredom, drops in
the moon, in the month October.
Hanging over a palm,
to shake hand with a
lone survivor,
a firefly.
 
A silvery silence
explodes in you face, before
you write a simple word
on the golden leaf.
 
And I must undo
the locks of complex, winged
life, which will not set―
me free from the funeral
pain. I am going to
meet myself, beyond you.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 11 january 2020

A Death's Kiss

Sometimes I do not
want to be talked about.
Like the setting sun.
 
The earthworm was busy
in turning the soil,
printing the seed's path.
 
I had removed, from
the house, all the clocks.
I wanted the time, to stand still.
 
My moment has not come.
In aloneness I will
find you in my shut eyes.
 
The dark night swims
once again, on the sea
to reach the boat.
 
You lay down your head on
the oars and go to long sleep.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 10 january 2020

Bitter Sweet

Autumn was round
the corner. I was preparing
for the fall.
 
The great wall
is crumbling. Will you
come for reunion?
 
Thea leaves,
I am ripening for you in sun.
Come like the moon's milk.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 9 january 2020

Broken Armour

I hear your voice
coming from within.
The disconnect, the cultural clash,
from river,
from tree,
from the golden nest.
 
The circle was complete,
breech birth,
the explicit insult.
 
The parched moon―
will bring the cold
tears, to extinguish the sparks
going home.
 
The roadway leads
to nowhere land. You will
again meet the wounded
cuckoo which will always sing
the hurts.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 9 january 2020

Without Destination

You come to me like
a fall.
All the colors have arrived.
 
The being, an entity―
multiplies. For now,
in past, in future.
 
A will not move away very far
from the dots.
A tangent will lead you to me.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 8 january 2020

Fractured

Blunt and bold were
the wet spots.
You bleed like me.
 
The seizure takes hold
of millions thoughts.
My sins are walking with me.
 
No annihilation of
the flesh. I was meeting
the spirits.
 
The face becomes pure
gold, when you
start burning the issues.
 
The years had survived
in slumber.
Death will not come to the hanged man.


number of comments: 1 | rating: 0/1 | detail |


RENATA

RENATA, 7 january 2020

związki nie całkiem bezpieczne

***
związało  ich życie strumieniem piwa
           fontanną wręcz
raz jedno raz drugie się kiwa
wśród krzyków ' do matki precz

                        ***
chciała być jak opoka
co trzyma bramy świątyni
została trofeum 
w chlewie u świni

                   ***

jesteśmy sobie przeznaczeni
mówili wszem i wobec
połączyły ich dzieci 
podzieliły pieniądze

                     ***
jaki on dobry mamusiu 
nawet obiady gotuje 
na pięćset puls uczciwie zarobił
i już pracą się nie przejmuje
                    ***

latały łabędzie parami
swoim niebem górami lasami
ten trzeci wbił się na chama
oj moja będzie ta dama

 zdradzona istota
 łzy pod poduszkę chowa
 w egzekucji trzeciemu odda
 karmy wodospad 
                 ***


number of comments: 1 | rating: 0/2 | detail |


steve

steve, 7 january 2020

"I Am Not"

Please forgive me Father.. for the man "I am not"...
As the sin in me is stronger.. then the love I never got,
I thought I'd follow my heart.. but it just led me astray...
So far away from you... I've forgotten how to pray,
Forgive me for believing... I could make it on my own...
I never meant to leave you.. or lose my way back home,
Forgive me for my weakness.. that keeps me lost in sin...
Thank you for the love you give.. that brings me back again,
Without you there is nothing.. and hope could never live...
Life would have no meaning.. without the love you give,
Forgive me for the love I feel.. that keeps my heart in chains...
Help me, Father, do your will... there's so much more to gain,
Give me your strength when I am weak.. your love when I have none..
Bring me home to be with you.. the Father and the Son.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 6 january 2020

Night Spots

Tonight the moon will sit
on the gazobe,
to have a look at the sea, rising.
 
*
 
On the night's shade
dewdrops will wait, till
morning glory blooms.
 
*
 
It was a long night.
My lamp starts to flicker.
I hurry up to finish my poem.


number of comments: 1 | rating: 0/1 | detail |


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 5 january 2020

Unthreading

It was a damp kiss
of an image.
Dispassionately you drop
an old coin into my hands.
 
Faithless in your poem.
I adored the Venus in twilight.
Carnation. A rose pink color,
appears in your eyes.
 
Rising from the marshy
slush, greater flamingos
keep watch underneath, at the
army of urns.
 
The sameness now dithers.
You want to weave the moon
in your breast, unpreparing
to open the heart.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 4 january 2020

Many Shades

The brown rice were
not yet ready.
An old man turns in grave.
 
*
 
The thingness
was shapeless in dark
Like a sleeping Buddha.
 
*
 
Once I told a lie.
The snow started melting
releasing methane.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 3 january 2020

Crumbling Down

Can you understand
the agony of a titan, which
cannot afford to show its fall?
 
Missing the defeat―
no one was victorious.
Battle cry was a phantom.
 
The questions, that were
fluttering in a storm―
had become the sufi fakirs.
 
It was a dirty stricture.
The colors had stopped flowing.
Even the death has lost its terror.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 2 january 2020

Uninviting Destiny

I would not understand
your fabric, when you come
wearing only smile.
 
The politics of life was beyond
my poetry. I only have the words
as my wealth. No other assets.
 
I wanted more space
between the black holes. My earth
needs a rebirth. I am very lonely.
 
Poison poems. You always
sparred with a family of weighting
heights, which could not touch the sky.
 
A series of serial killers,
were ready to begin the assault
on the tossing daffodils, deaf, dumb and blind.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 1 january 2020

Too Crowded Was Arena

I felt you, through your
words. Tight and
crisp. But you remained untouchable.
 
For thousand of years
a lity of valley
cried, to get a dove's cooing voice.
 
The musk deer will not
leave its domain. Some
poems were hungery of its hideout.
 
An ordinary day of fall
starts the inferno. Syllable
by syllable in colors.
 
The dilemma of drinking
the hemlock at one go.
How would I describe the ascending paralysis?


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 31 december 2019

Wounded And Alive

In search of wholeness,
the words sit around me
cutting the edge of the corn ear.
 
A new shibboleth, will
announce the arrival of
a bloody tribe.
 
In this life cycle, I
will meet you, to kidnap
a Pir for remaining silent.
 
Who was on the road
to give a sane advice
to the waning roses?
 
It was not poemtime.
The kids were bleeding
from the barbs of unknown.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 30 december 2019

How Blue Was My Country

The godman also had
an underbelly.
He lost his vision,
came full circle.
 
Now paper lamps
float in rows
on tear effect.
 
An underdog―
becomes a horseman,
follows the royal buggy
with a naked king.
 
The verdict was
very simple.
It was a nightmare.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |



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