poetry

poetry
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



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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.


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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.


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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.


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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.


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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.


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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 
                 ***


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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.


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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.


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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.


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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.


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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.


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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?


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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.


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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.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 28 december 2019

Turning To Dark

I believe in you, O tidal
mouth, where the salt
meets the stream.
 
I never had any God
to put the fish in desert to swim,
and someone can write a poem.
 
I am not different
beyond the unwritten
miracles. I cannot undo a cliché.
 
It is still my dharma ―
to listen to unheard cosmic
chants of blue birds.
 
And I reached the emptiness
of a vessel, which had
spilled over the milk of seeds.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 27 december 2019

A Spirited Dust

Was it a calculated
risk, when it was poetry,
 
falling like rains
on the parched lips
 
of yellowing pages.
Like the stones of a
 
grey mountain,
singing a hymn to blasts,
 
pick pocketing the sun?
I start reading the anatomy
 
of violence, ever, never
easy to understand.
 
Lots of red blotches
were spread on the tiny figures.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 26 december 2019

Each Day

The suffering
was suffering.
You pay for it.
 
There was no point
in returning, to fumble.
 
Sodium or Potassium
fluoride will make it lethal.
 
New crack's open the
mind, like a walnut.
 
God's creation―
lies in halves.
 
Take it, or reject it,
the maze of words―
 
describing the brutality
of life's half-truths.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 25 december 2019

Beyond Words

Skinned alive, as
an aftermath of speaking
against the unhinged
blue gods.
 
Like cacti: growing
straight towards the sky
exploring the questions,
you open a can of paint.
 
The secret spills. In
happenings, you will find
some poems, written
for tribes of flowers.
 
The colors sings at the
feast of tearfalls.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 24 december 2019

No Revenge

Penultimately,
I pick up my choice
of not accepting my defeat.
 
The grades were falling.
Yet my limbs move
on fine grains of salt.
 
I will write, blue names
with chalk
on the blackboard of―
 
a teacherless life.
The disasters had helped me
to redefine the attachments.
 
The jail-break was
imminent Moon was coming
out from the nemesias.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 23 december 2019

The Deep Cut

Under your baton,
The targets are being
identified. Moon will
find out the hiding
of muse.
 
A purple rhythm
will not be stymied
in bud. Hold the
ground. Sun was setting
very soon.
 
I have not heard the
boots of departure
as yet. The music
will go on till the
last breath.
 
A very positive black.
With closed eyes, you
sit in meditation―
until the flames arrive.
 


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 22 december 2019

What Was Left

A veiled threat,
a muffled cry. It was not human.
 
No beast, no monster
yet unhuman.
 
The feel of wolf's
lair, was there in dark.
Anything would happen.
 
You wanted to become
a self-proclaimed divine Being.
Yet, you were not a god.
 
A black pit opens. Do not shout.
The clogged artery had bursted.
 
I give you back your city
you can scale the high wall
and jump into eternity.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 21 december 2019

For Heaven's Sake

In shreds,
the day has passed.
At night, I will touch;
the unasked questions.
 
You were sending, the
soap bubbles, like
swans carrying the messages.
 
The weather changes. A
fantasy becomes real.
The moon has missed the night.
 
Like the Morse code, there was
a flurry of taps, the
blank paper flies for a rite.
 
It is dawn, breasted and melting.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 20 december 2019

Tall Slogans

A futile attempt to go
for a collection spree.
You got only the numbers.
 
It had to happen. The drums were beating.
 
The minority suffers
in the hands of many gods.
 
Between the black
and white, will it be last battle?
 
Temples were asked to
give the details of divine―
winds and the red moons.
 
There was a spiritual conflict,
without giving any purpose.
You cannot dissect
my poems.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 19 december 2019

The Ire

Encrypting the cause―
of death. Why do you
truss up the statement?
 
Tell me, whom you were
punishing, accepting
the legitimacy of lies?
 
 
Anything would happen
to the author,
who was writing a diary
on the fallen saint.
 
The palace fumes. There
was an extraordinary delay
in execution of
fire spoons.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 18 december 2019

From The End

Hard and brittle,
the cost of sealing the lips
was increasing overnight.
 
Cleaving the thoughts―
you would not tell,
what do you believe.
 
I watch in horror. A
planned trajectory has
failed, shielding the tears.
 
A furore rises. Half―
humans were fighting
with stones.
 
It will talk, one day
the agony of deathmask,
you did not want to wear.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 17 december 2019

Reclaiming The Legacy

A shut door
without a house
would not open, would not open.
 
An unsealed house
without a door
will not invite.
 
The irony of knocks overcomes the visitor.
 
And why would,
you walk in the
doorway without reaching
anywhere.
 
A divided world
moves towards a diminished―
family.


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RENATA

RENATA, 16 december 2019

w pogoni za szczęściem oddam portmonetkę

bądż
moim natchnieniem 
oczu odcieniem
serca odbiciem 
uszu zachwytem 
  życiem

zmysłów powiewem
marzeniem 

a Ty liczysz dni 
czułe słówka szepczesz mi 
i płaczesz i jęczysz i coś cię dręczy
bieda żyć ci nie da 
wyciągasz rękę po mój chleb

choć wiem 
że nie dla mnie z tobą raj
daję gdy mówisz daj 
obietnicami ścielesz chwil parę
odchodzisz wreszcie zostawiasz ranę

a ja z wielkim bólem
składam złamane serce
minus na koncie jak stąd do Rzymu
lecz ja z rozpaczą wybaczam jeszcze 

wołam wróć
ja cię wezmę 
co za głupia krowa 
myśli ten i ów ludź

a ty poszłeś w diabły
sny o szczęściu
poszły w niepamięć 
po latach mówię 
byłeś mą klątwą 
chamie




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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 16 december 2019

Some Snippets

A sleepwalker gives up
a snake,
inside the sleeves.
The dog outruns
the moon.
 
*
 
You draw a blue line
around the summer night.
Flames.
I will drive out
the ghosts.
 
*
 
The acid attack
went for the thatch.
You will snorkel now,
under the reeds.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 15 december 2019

Quick Snatches

Lesser evil of a god
will preside over
the verdict. There was
a sexual assault
in the temple.
 
*
 
If you have an eye, you
will you find a
naked king,
riding on a
golden horse.
 
*
 
Friends. It is time,
that will give
you a slip.
Beware of the
dark sentry.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 14 december 2019

Echos In September

Under a sickle moon,
the effect was colossal.
The mute words
were floating like vespae.
 
There was no―
promised nest of paper.
You cannot land
without ink.
 
The grey beard starts
weaving a web of
lies. Larvae will―
feed on blessed water.
 
Very warm, very hollow.
The globe turns. You stand
on the surface,
cannot fathom out the human mind.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 13 december 2019

What September

Ceaselessly,
the September moon
was sending poems
in quick succession.
 
Life had come to a grinding halt.
 
The walls,
wait to end the race of
stings. The heat was
a dirty yellow.
 
You will witness the fall of a titan.
 
The genome of red
wine grape was
similar to a forgotten
verse, after the―
 
rage of ageing cells of a sage.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 12 december 2019

Deterrence

This September. It is
going to be very quiet.
 
I am trying to caress
the mimosa, which
always said,
touch-me-not.
 
The spontaneous probe
will start the construct in love
of philosophy to mimic
the animal plus
the femineity.
 
A clock was moving
without hands. Time was up
but legs were amputated.
How will you walk
towards your truth?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 11 december 2019

Recounting

Uncannily sanguine,
wounded by biting gnats―
you return home.
 
You would call the
family for a final―
drink and
drown the moon.
 
You have come very
far from the inviting
shores in deep sea―
 
to be sucked into the
whirlpool of silence―
to end the sounds.
 
You will not put the
bread upside down. Who
will provide the priceless again?
 
A small saga of unheard renegade?


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RENATA

RENATA, 10 december 2019

ona szalona

ona by tak chciała
mieć pieniądze
tyle tyle aż
choćby  cały bank

ona by tak chciała 
uciec stąd 
słyszy słyszy głosy
stare jak ten świat

ona by tak chciała
sama być
tak tak realnie
trzeba syna zabić

przyszpilić do łóżka
udusić poduszką
uciec szybko z miejsca
do samego piekła

piekło znajdzie w sobie
na nic jej pieniądze
świata zza krat nie zobaczy 
nikt za nią nie zapłacze


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


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 10 december 2019

Eaten By White Ants

Downy mildew,
blinks. The sun
will not come back
to rein in its own might.
 
The temple gold,
has come for sale―
in bazaar.
On the balcony, stand
bystanders to witness the free fall.
 
The black door,
plays hide-and-seek
with light.
Green eyes will now
bargain for hips.


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


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 9 december 2019

I Will Not Be Silent

Overlooks the juvenility.
The shrinking genitals.
It was the militancy.
The freedom, brought
about by the guns.
Now indiscreetly firing at the sky.
 
This deadpan delivery
of the shut doors. Economy
has failed the toads,
the croaking minions. A raw
poem speaks now
for the unopened coffins.
 
The run, the run of the
century begins. Some one was
running, non-stop, from
sleep to sleep, away from the sexual
assaults, from rapes, from
man-slaughter.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 8 december 2019

Smoke Signals

A severed hand, after
the blast, working on a script
writes about the
musicality of blood.
 
Blood of moon and trees;
of poems and bees,
contributing to making
of republics of grass.
 
The roots know the secret
of god and grief of humanity.
The sound ot truth resonates
with the art of dying.
 
Between the sun-and moon―
under the sky sleeps a
shimmering axe.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 7 december 2019

Of Land And Ills

The dancing paper,
humilates the pen.
A stunning defeat for morality.
 
In splendid withdrawl,
the eyelids bear the violence
of soil.
 
A broken pride
will get back at you.
Step aside. Let the soul read the dewdrop.
 
The moon meets the
earthen lamp, to understand
the hymns of rag-pickers.
 
The religion drinks
the aroma of holy vice. Was
there any truth of a beast?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 6 december 2019

Voiceless Assaults

You are waiting
amid fears. The fretting
does not end.
 
At where,
the road ends? To find a blue star
where do we go?
 
The house was
sleeping in fog. Inside the
dome, hooves, quiver.
 
I have to become
mute. Time was black,
my song blue.
 
A pure crime.
The vultures come in
cloaks to take away the lamb.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 5 december 2019

Fading Glory

You want to cover your
amnesia. Death
has no other color.
 
How far you will go
to retrieve
the sensibility?
 
Time does not sit idly.
Undeniably your foe―
poisoning the well.
 
Sky was overcast and
sends misty rain.
Have the heart-leaves and moon-seeds.
 
The history concedes.
Molybdenum was god,
initiating life on earth.


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RENATA

RENATA, 4 december 2019

dojrzewanie -a jesienią zbierzesz plony

w sadzie wokół jabłoni 
twój uśmiech mnie gonił
moje oczy cię rozbierały
a ręce brały

a tam przy starej jabłoni
serce mi dałaś na dłoni
a tam przy młodej gruszy
zakochałam się po uszy


na trawie wśród rumianku
liczyliśmy świerszcze o poranku
graly nam kształty Mendelsona
ty przyszły mąż ja przyszła żona



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


RENATA

RENATA, 4 december 2019

przeznaczenie

W księdze pamięci
Urodziła się i jest
Istota komuś potrzebna
Uczy się i dojrzewa
Kwitnie i obumiera
Wartość swoją mierzy
Sumą doświadczeń
I tylko pamięć zostaje
Zbieraczem absolutnym
W drodze do przeznaczenia


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 4 december 2019

For The Skin And Eyes

Not confessional.
Without reading the body
there was no room.
 
My fever rises
in limbs.
Giving me a double vision.
 
This was not my age.
Out of place, I
call for limestone.
 
The sea and
moon will make a castle
on the waves.
 
Whom do you call
careless? I was writing
the verse on blood paper.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 1 december 2019

No Carnage

A house without doors
I was living
in fog.
 
The infamous review
will tell about the
fallen words from the roof.
 
There was no history,
no culture of
cannibalism.
 
I only exhaled
the grief of centuries
shielding the ankle's pain.
 
There had been no
perfect picture of the
dancing god in nude.
 
A blue face swims.
I draw the map of the smell
of cinders.


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George Krokos

George Krokos, 30 november 2019

Simple Observation 151 - It is said that lightning .....

It is said that lightning doesn’t ever strike at the same place twice
and a person passes as a fool who makes the same mistake thrice.
_____________________________


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George Krokos

George Krokos, 30 november 2019

Quatrain 157 - The inner beauty of man.....

The inner beauty of man is far superior to that of the outer,
we only need look deep enough within us to see it's greater.
It is basically through ignorance most haven't seen this fact,
but to actually witness this truth requires extraordinary tact.
________________________________


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George Krokos

George Krokos, 30 november 2019

On Meditation

Sit in silence and have a break
from everything when you're awake.
Take some time and be by yourself
then you might even improve health.
If this is done regularly
you'll enjoy life more happily.
 
Close your eyes to then look within
at the darkness that's consuming.
Just observe the thoughts which arise
don't get involved with all their lies.
Seek the light of your Spirit Soul
and it will lead you to the Goal.
_______________________________


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George Krokos

George Krokos, 30 november 2019

Ode to Felicity

O Felicity, You have been good to me
how can I ever hope to repay Thee?
Just when I thought that all was lost
Your presence inside me did so accost.
 
You lifted me gently out of my darkest hours
brightened the day with the colors of flowers;
together with their fragrance while in bloom
was a remedy that dispelled most of the gloom.
 
And those tears that flowed from my eyes
were in gratitude cleansing like the skies;
after the rains fall and the clouds disperse
the sun shines through with a rainbow verse.
 
You are so gracious and very caring
in spite of our insolence in despairing;
that grip of sorrow is loosened in our heart
as Your bliss removes the pain bearing part.
 
Oh, how thankful we should all really be
when we recognize Your uplifting spree;
You are at hand to restore our natural joy
the darkness of ignorance tries to destroy.
__________________


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George Krokos

George Krokos, 30 november 2019

Why The Caged Bird Really Sings

The caged bird sings because
it longs for freedom
to fly and be with its own kind
and to know what life is really about
and be able to share it with a soul mate.
 
That's why the caged bird sings -
a song of hope and for all we know
a mournful yet beautiful sad song
of longing for the life
it was created for and dreams of having
instead of being cooped up in a cage
playing a role that was
never intended by nature
for it to have and live
as a captive show-piece
for a higher evolved form......
 
The ultimate expression of cruelty
to deprive another creature
of its natural born freedom.....
 
That's why the caged bird really sings!
________________________


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 30 november 2019

World Moves On

The ethical dilemma,
and chaste abscenity,
were the game changers.
 
Vowel syncope was making it easier.
 
Let the most vulnerable
lie still. A pseudowar of words
is going to start.
 
A blast of vocabulary,
some smothering of smells,
will make the jaws, drop soundlessly.
 
And many would not
breath easily. It was catastrophe.
 
The language convulses.
In jungle of gatherings
there was no pond.
 
I was still searching, the inflection.
The creative touch.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 29 november 2019

A Nonarrival

Munitions in place
you were ready
to strike.
 
What you wanted to
find out, I had
found in my poems.
 
It was the dark night―
that becomes ink.
I am writing in black letters.
 
What was the
obsessive cult of
fingertips, holding the pen?
 
Sometimes you look
at you, when
you were not you.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 28 november 2019

Once On Earth Day

Returning to the ragpicker
like a lone fly
of love triangle, said― were you
writing a letter to confess your love?
 
Like a glue sniffer, I
am stuck with you.
O brown earth, raw
wounds heal …
 
When I sing a blade
of grass, when I sit
under moon, holding your
hills for comfort.
 
My head nestling on
your heaving breast, while
I sleep without―
a dream.
 
It was devastating to eat
you. Your cauldron, bubbling.
Someone wants to pay
back your sun, your moon.


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RENATA

RENATA, 27 november 2019

ukryte żądze

piasek pustyni 
złoto w skrzyni
biały proszek
szklane wieżowce

bogacz obłędem szalony
niczego nie szanuje
po kawałku kupuje
uda cycki i dupę potem żony

tu nie ma miłości
pośród setek ciał w nagości
zazdrość tu nie gości
piękne ciała zmyją okruch samotności



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RENATA

RENATA, 27 november 2019

nadziany-nadziana

ślicznotko
masz chęć na walizkę
pełną dolców?

szejk zaprasza
na przyjęcie
oni kochają rasowe
konie i kobiety

i nie śmiej powiedzieć nie
i nie śmiej zakochać się
a będziesz mile widziana
nadziana


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 27 november 2019

A Bold Step

Yes it would remain
incomplete, my story―
my poem.
 
The henna speaks today
against unadulterated lies,
against the rage of
losing path.
 
No more the wrens
will sing, till the clouds don't send
apologia for not
sending the rains―
 
of blueberries. If I
were you I will turn the
bees into butterflies.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 26 november 2019

Retrievability

Shredding begins.
One by one all the leaves fall, like disrobing.
 
The words hang around, the naked soul.
You have to catch
the essence.
 
Deep in the sea―
lies the earth like pain. It
rises― when you prod―
 
to recover the intensity.
The center and tangent,
both, cry.
 
Perception comes, when
you break the ―
giant silence, searching for a poem.
 


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 25 november 2019

Fading Faces

Widening the scope
you want to remain
at center stage.
 
Thinking starts, battling
the ghosts. Doubt remains alive.
 
A broken beer bottle, at your throat.
You suffer the fall
of humankind.
 
The acid burns. You wire the
clouds. Tears will not flow.
This is not the end.
 
Turn the page. Why you
need the signs?
 
Those pale, staring eyes, unclosed.
Not sufficient?
Can you read the red line?
 
Was it not an oblique cut,
where the sand was lifted?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 24 november 2019

Uncementing

Gold fringed, the hood
strikes. You are bound
to throne.
 
It was unnatural to
demolish the ancient shrine.
God will not show his face.
 
And what about the dew
collecting on grass leaves,
when you were crying?
 
The kids won't cry now.
The hunger has put
them to sleep.
 
It was the dead end
now. You are melting in
great walls.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 23 november 2019

The Spillover

Not a dog day―
after snapping. In
fatigues, you get a parole
to start sowing sunflowers.
 
A butterfly skips,
the roundabout and lands
on your lips―
 
after spending entire
life from flower-to-flower
from bush-to-bush.
 
I was a witness to history
in making. There was
no togetherness. Will you
believe that?
 
I am a flame now. All
night I will burn,
to read the explosions―
reaching the bottom of fear.
 


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 21 november 2019

Balancing Act

Collecting the dirt,
a speechless drama unfolds.
 
Now you can hear the―
wails of buried amnesia.
 
You can touch now the footsteps
where the activist fell.
 
The gift of bleeds coming
from the saddened past;
 
the space was expanding―
to accommodate missed abortions.
 
My limbs giveaway gathering,
the blackberries of moon.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 20 november 2019

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.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 19 november 2019

Empathy With Tattered Cape

Weep every don.
All the translations were fake.
 
The yellow peaks do not burn the
sky, now at sunrise.
 
I am forgetting myself―
in the gathering of my foes.
 
The pilgrim's path is now dirty.
You cannot transcend the―
 
dead remains of ancestry. In
the hutment, that was the end of view.
 
Nightblindness. I cannot fathom
out the saint descending a great depth.
 
From beastkinds I swim back
to save an unborn epic.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 18 november 2019

Demanding Answers After The Chemical Attacks In Damascus

I was not afraid of the clock, ticking,
dividing your attention. A guarded
withdrawl of the statement, had
brought a comic relief to the distraught
vicitims.
 
Caving on guns, the
mustard cloud could wipe out
the entire generation.
 
The tender bodies
wrapped up in white cloaks,
ready to be sent back
to mother's womb: earth.
 
Why a sun wanted to
pass out gingerly?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 17 november 2019

Unhurting

Unshackled, the pallor moon
was lying still, in a white-
shroud of clouds, only face
visible, staring-
down languidly.
 
I have come afar,
from the whispering dark,
to annul my existence.
 
Your hands tremble,
carrying your name. The
magic of unsaid-
poems, working.
 
Life had been a Medusa.
The blues, the reds, the
greens, overbearing.
 
Scores will be settled
when moon,
goes down.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 16 november 2019

Ancient Echoes

Art of dying
comes, after
you listen to the siren song.
 
The intention
was to kill yourself,
non-violently, when
moon was hiding.
 
Man was changing the skyline. You can
redraw the landscape without hurting the grass.
 
Don't offer to sacrifice
the goat on the rock,
where the shipwrecks took place.
 
You burn that, what you
would not eat. The
assassination charges were true.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 15 november 2019

Stopping The Wheels

It was a free fall.
A plot seems to thicken.
I would never know.
 
Perhaps I will not explain,
how the test tube baby
slapped the sky.
 
The fun of unknowing
the secret of
a cold-blooded murder.
 
Suddenly the streetlamp
goes off. Night cracks
open to release the animal.
 
How a godman
becomes a werewolf?
The shadows are hovering.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 14 november 2019

Rehabilitation

Trying to bring the change
with bleeding silver.
 
As it is/was, this world.
You may not agree to it.
 
The release of tension
from the cupped eyes? Will not
alter the secret deal.
 
There at the hemline,
bodies were scattered, slain
after the trespass.
 
The royal coin, flexes
its muscle. It will talk
through the muzzles.
 
Poorest of poor will become free.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 12 november 2019

Endless Yearning

The thirst will know,
the river was there.
To lie on the grass was ultimate.
 
It was not the green,
it was not the blue,
but desire had the keyhole to look
at the fine sands,
where you stand to find the
elixir of life.
 
A crackling of joint, awakens
you. You will not wait
for the rains to come and overwhelm
the permeable umbrella.
 
A fluttering butterfly
knows, how to become floppy
and dangle like a dead leaf.
 
The stream was
drinking its own water.


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eunoia

eunoia, 11 november 2019

I Don't Mean What I Meant (080819)

I don't like typhoons because it comes with floods right after
butit doesn't mean I don't like rain and lightning

I don't like mornings because it reminds me that I have to wake up and work again
but it doesn't mean I don't like the blue sky, the sun, and the fluffy clouds

I don't like being told often to sleep early because my anemia will be triggered and that it's bad for my health
but it doesn't mean I don't like long hours of sleeping

I don't like noise like blaring horns and loud talking people because it's stressful and irritating
but it doesn't mean I don't turn up the volume to my favourite songs when my headset's on

I don't like the pain that comes when you decide to finally get a tattoo
but it doesn't mean I don't like to have one in the future

I don't like riding a boat and be distanced far from land because i have thalassophobia
but it doesn't mean I don't like the sea, the starfish or the coral reefs

I don't like the idea of falling in love because it comes with heartache and tears
but it doesn't mean I won't risk falling in love with you..


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steve

steve, 9 november 2019

"Morning Light"

If you wake up all alone .. and need someone who cares..
If the weight upon you're shoulders .. becomes too much to bear,
If lonely starts to haunt you.. in the middle of the night..
Or you need someone to hold on to.. who'll hold you just as tight,
If you need someone to talk to.. who would never lie to you..
And won't candy-coat the story.. who stands up for the truth,
If you're tired of the rat race.. and need to get away..
Or need to be taken care of .. if only for a day,
You have but to call me.. and you know that I'll be there..
There's nothing that I wouldn't do.. my soul to you I'd bare,
You're the light in the distance.. that overcomes the dark..
You're the fire that's ignited .. whenever there's a spark,
You're my dream when I'm sleeping.. the answer to a prayer...
I'm the one you can call.. when you think that no one cares,
Just remember that I'm out here.. a lifeline in the night..
Wanting to be with you .. until the "morning light".


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 9 november 2019

Of Innocence And Black Magic

The evil city? You
become the smallest
light.
 
The lamb did not save
the godman. I was
praying loudly.
 
It was falling apart.
The concept, the belief
the palace.
 
Years roll by. Until
the priest was shot down
on the street.
 
You marvel at the
turning of the mountain.
How do you climb down the salt?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 7 november 2019

A Keyhole Surgery

Sometimes, I want to write
a folk poem, without name.
 
Anonymously, you want to
postpone the commitment
to accept the murder
of yourself,
the griever.
 
The towering belief―
that there were skeletons
on the grains, as the words
become verses.
 
A snowy virgin
will take a knife, to bring
down the stars
when you sing centuries
of love.


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steve

steve, 6 november 2019

"Too Late"

I tried to protect my heart.. to keep it away from you..
To never let you get too close.. no matter what you do,
I tried to build a wall.. too high for you to climb..
Something that's so ominus.. you wouldn't waste the time,
I thought I'd make no sound.. so you wouldn't know my voice..
We'd never have to look away.. and say we had no choice,
And I tried to leave no trail.. that you might follow me..
I thought if I'm invisable.. there'd be nothing there to see,
But you did touch my heart.. and you didn't even try..
I thought it was safely put away.. I didn't know you could fly,
You scaled the walls with precision.. walls that no one could climb..
I thought my heart was well hidden.. but was only a matter of time, 
I didn't have to say a word.. you knew me all along..
You broke through every defense I had.. when I thought that I was strong,
You took my heart a prisoneer.. and didn't even know..
And left me in a place.. I couldn't dream to go,
I never told you how I felt.. before you went away..
I never told you that I cared.. and I care everyday,
Now you're gone and it's too late.. to cross that great divide..
Regrets and tears are all I have.. for never having tried.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 6 november 2019

Elusive Answers

Constrained.
The starlings will
not fly today.
 
There was a hole
in the sky.
The god particles will fall.
 
Drawing out
the blood of fallen―
angles, on the street.
 
Can you count
the sins of man?
We still celebrate the hate.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 5 november 2019

Condensation

A butterfly
in a bell jar.
All I know, we understand
each other.
 
There was no sun
at midnight.
Only a blue black
dilemma of―
 
the sky, to burn
like human combustion.
I am ready to start
a journey with sunbeams.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 4 november 2019

Unbroken View

Segment by segment
the secret breaks. There was
no song afterwards.
 
A robin hops on the dirt road.
Time was scare.
Living water was escaping.
 
Visibility has not changed.
I walk in great agony
without you.
 
The fabric was loosing
the color. The book will
never be complete.
 
I enter the colosseum, for
digging up the voices―
buried in the throats.
 
The daffodils wait in
backyard for the ceremony.
Light has come in the eyes.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 3 november 2019

An Uncanny Feeling

I would let it go
anything now. Will not accept
any grace.
 
I am moving unfazed―
buttons apart. Let the night
descend.
 
A hired applause was not needed.
 
As the gorgeous earth plays its last tune.
I will wait in the lobby, to fail again.
There was no repeat
of the deciduous teeth,
coming back to chew your fingers.
 
The small steps you won't
take to bridge the unknown.
 
Scoping the language, watching
itself dying.


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steve

steve, 2 november 2019

"Just Some Friend"

It's hard to even come around .. and pretend I'm "just some friend"...
When I look into those deep blue eye's.. I'm drifting on the wind,
Your beauty leaves me breathless.. when you come into view...
I lose all sense of any thoughts.. as all thoughts turn to you...
I try to be like other friends.. but your other friends aren't gay...
And awkward moments when I'm with you.. reveal what I can't say,
I can barely breathe at all.. when I get too close to you...
So forgive me if I can't stay long.. for I can't hide the truth,
The tears rain down inside of me..and the river's overflow...
It's not a truth I want to share.. but I've no place else to go,
I feel I'm hanging by a thread.. and no one has a clue...
But I don't have the right to ask.. for what I need from you,
To lay down close beside you.. to hold your hand in mine...
Together on a stary night.. you let me cross the line,
You give me what I dream about.. you share that part of you...
You take me where I've never been.. that's what a friend would do,
I know that what I ask of you.. is more than most would give...
But I'll cherish the memory all my life.. as long as we both live.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 2 november 2019

Not Water Proof

Stoned to death.
The rooted plants had begun
to climb the mountain.
 
Very hot here.
Difficult to breath in.
Why lesser flamingos were landing
on dry lake?
 
They enter via back door.
The multi-tuberculates.
Why the man was
running away from the orchids?
 
Strange, our lineage was
getting interrupted, by
smoke screens.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 1 november 2019

Classical Entry

It takes billions of years
for ancient light to reach us and
rescue the trapped darkness.
 
You can hunt among rocks
in the palisades, behind
the ramparts.
 
There was an apocalypse.
 
Stem cells were ready
to repair the myelin―
searching ancestry.
 
It was a tense stand-off
between the headstone and a living dead.
 
Cannot repay the debt of blue
Sky, sending us
the warnings of catastrophy.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 31 october 2019

Invisible Ink

I will meet the moon
on the terrace,
when the dust settles on the
lids, smothering
the uncharted barricades.
 
Life had been full of dresses
to play the lead in
conflicts of alliance vows.
 
Like untouched goodbyes,
you hover around the exit―
to seek the blessings of dark.
 
In the glasshouse, you cannot
walk nude. The wounds, the scars
the burnt-out fabrics
will tell the truth.
 
A priest will invoke
the mercy of the vessel.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 30 october 2019

Updated

I will not elaborate,
what I mean.
You have to dig out the treasure.
 
The puzzle was not new.
The memorial will be
buried in the sand.
 
A bloodbath will give―
the final touch to the
ground, less savoury now of inhumanity.
 
We celebrate the anniversary
to forget the world's
conflicts, man made.
 
Will you come in the
dark? The snipers are watching
out for the sparks of mercy.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 29 october 2019

Holding Back

The credibility
of an apple
becoming an icon.
 
It draws first
blood, when you―
were sleeping.
 
It still matters:
thinking of milt
but sinking your ferry.
 
There was no epilogue.
 
A midsummer night.
I will forget
your name.
 
Standing in a
queue, you should not
punish yourself
 
becoming unmatched.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 28 october 2019

Not Accountable

A breast bomb,
makes a sudden lunge-
disfiguring the landscape
till your body was pulled out.
 
Your choices were very few.
Either you walk straight
or become a leaf of grass.
 
It will not work. A swift―
withdrawl from the controversial
marriage with ferocity,
 
as naked as moon. How
about the aspirant refusing
to sit for engraving in gold?
 
The salt bearers were coming
to act like gods.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 27 october 2019

The Ground Gives Way

To blunt the offence
of beautiful pain
you stopped remaining good.
 
This was a perverse phenomenon
 
wearing the straight jacket
you try to become
a beast.
 
The glowing eyes will
send the message to dispose off
the headless body of
a marbled saint.
 
Someone has taken off
the eyes. You will need
a transplant of religion.
 
I am very unhappy.


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Renato N. Mascardo

Renato N. Mascardo, 26 october 2019

A Hymn to Him

rondeau en rondeau
 
round he is not my little pet
ten will he be but not just yet
I love him like an only child
but his feelings for me are mild
t'was love at first sight when we met
nine years later love has not set
it will remain lest I forget
with time's toll we are reconciled
round he is not
French is his name yet he is nyet
all day asleep and he is all set
just don't expect him to run wild
my puppy and I are just mild
being laid back he has no regret
round he is not//
 
renato
26 october 2019 11:37am PHL time   


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 26 october 2019

No Explanation

How difficult it was to
remain a simple truth,
as passive grass
with no frills.
 
I was ready to talk
heart to heart.
 
You cannot stand all the ink,
writing, simple verse, furtively.
 
What was eating you up,
I asked the milkweed.
"On this summer, monarchs
were not coming to breed"
it said.
 
I felt the unease. Grappled with the
amount of pain, at tiny thoughts.
 
The scale and brutality
of the times, the throats slit open.
 
Like a clam you shut up.


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steve

steve, 25 october 2019

"Fly Away"

I guess I should let go.. as you want no part of me...
And never get to know the part.. that I have yet to see,
The part of you I've longed for.. the part I've never known...
The part that's kept behind closed doors... a fortress made of stone,
I know just where I stand .. you can't help the way you feel..
We can't control whats in our heart.. or expect it to be still,
And though my true desire.. runs deeper than the sea..
Sometimes we have to bury pain.. before we can be free,
But I will not forget you.. I wouldn't even try..
Does the moon forget the stars.. as they share the evening sky?                                     
I must "fly away".. while there's wind beneath my wings..
But you will always have my heart.. and I'll always have my dreams..


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 25 october 2019

How Did You Arrive?

After sitting in dark
through the black smiles,
you cannot stand the light.
 
The bloodshed, inclusive
of measuring the purity of intent,
celebrating the arrival―
 
and departure, ignoring the passage.
The road smells the spot, and feeds the rags.
 
These leaps and bounds
land you at the dead end. No trees
no leaves. Where you will go now?
 
How you hate yourself, now
beheading the roses. The cloud forest, where
you will find a new carnivore.


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steve

steve, 24 october 2019

"No Words"

Though all you show is distain for me .. I'll always care for you ..
Because nothing that you said.. made me feel the way you do,
Am I supposed to walk away.. and never say your name ..
Never dream of you again.. and pretend there is no pain,
Tell myself to just let go .. you never cared for me ..
And put my broken heart away.. that I wore on my sleeve,
Because my whole world got darker.. when you said goodbye ..
And though you wouldn't know it .. I'd think of you and cry,
I don't know what I did.. that would turn your heart to stone ..
But when you said goodbye to me .. it hurt right to the bone,
Any thoughts of touching you.. have all dissolved away ..  
And any dreams I had of us.. will never see the day,
So I try hard to not think about.. the last time I saw you ..
I don't want to feel your hate.. much less believe it's true,
You took me by complete surprise .. I had "no words" to say ..
And I can't fight the one I love ..  I had to walk away,
I thought that we were stronger .. than any play on words ..
I thought that we were friends.. but I guess that's been deferred,
It's not easy letting go .. but you know I can't hold on ..
If that's the way you really feel.. you're already gone,
I'll just have to face the dark.. the way I always do ..
Shed some tears before I sleep.. and wake up without you.


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


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 24 october 2019

People Versus Silence

In the humid night
there was a circularity
of rhythmic chirping of the crickets.
 
Suddenly there is a lull.
Everything stops in the tracks.
Then a chorus rises―
building up to crescendo.
 
You become easily distracted
being sole surviving species―
not defending you flaws.
 
Then your mind shrinks.
You would like to hide
the emptiness, but
the psyche impales you.
 
The baby moon starts
transliterating the great―
silence on your lips.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 23 october 2019

Chasing The Wild Cat

Pushed aside and
sequestered, like a
frieze, you hang on a wall.
 
From grape to grapefruit
the journey was tedious.
When you start reading the mind,
the crisis deepens.
 
Cannabis? Like psychoactive;
the anger rises against hyper―
male identity. A gender
 
based disorder. It kills
scores of cuckoos. Who will
give now, a mating call?
 
A prison-break. You set
free all the songs and
release the inmates of conscience.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 22 october 2019

Shooting Stars

It is over. The curtain falls.
I have come to settle―
my account with the waning moon.
 
Will call you later,
when the dawn breaks
and sun spells out the light.
 
The water has receded―
on the beach, leaving some
empty shells, hollowed fish
 
and upturned paper boats.
I move around the small pool,
left by the angry sea.
 
You will start commenting
on my poems. I wanted to read
your handwritten notes to know―
 
how your mind works.
I will not meet you again.


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


Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 21 october 2019

In Mist

There was a scream,
a howl. Something, somebody
had scuttled the platter.
You stop and frisk yourself,
and as if the red ants had
started coming out from your
eyes.
 
It wets the script. An apparition.
A dove flutters in the chest. A
fantasy, like you leave your body.
A window opens, shuts. Opens, shuts.
One vestigial flicker of the miasma
unsettles, the tree culture,
The undersides of the tongue becomes blue.
 
Do you know, you read
from the back side of the brain?
Have you heard the hindsight?
Yes, sometimes, means no.


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