Latest items:

poetry

Satish Verma, 9 october 2021

Slow Melting

Trap unplugged,
There was a hairy assault,
when you started playing
the sitar of three strings.

Though fearless, you
forget, it was evil, when
you flew towards
the sun, to pay homage.

Your god had failed. I am
counting the winters. No body
was left whole. Piecemeal
you collect the remains of burned outs.

In Bay of Pigs you stand
alone amidst the scars
of invasion. A river upturned,
an ocean dried, there was left no ship.

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Satish Verma, 7 october 2021

Some Thinking Space

Asking for privacy, a
green snake becomes deviant,
and turns lunatic.

Lunacy demands innovation―
like atavism, returning
to primitiveness.

The fear becomes
your enemy. Instinct develops
to kill, to slay.

Again a beheading, you
wash your hands
with the blood of a god.

And dedicate your
life to a goddess of bodypiercing
crime, soaring high.

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Satish Verma, 5 october 2021

Not Your Doings

A solemn moon
talking to hills,
plunged in pain of tainted love.

I steer quietly out
of this queasiness, did't want
to accept the risqué.

A spider was climbing
on a wall to weave
a sticky web for a baby face.

Like an aspen leaf
you tremble in even a slight
breeze of a beautiful thought.

The garden lizard
changes the color. Who was responsible
for the ruins of temples
and mosques?

Let me talk to the god, the god
standing at my door
engaging the harvest moon.

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Satish Verma, 4 october 2021

In Restraint

Of many gods,
I chose the rock-cut Buddha.
At night we would talk daily.

Like at talkathon―
I will accept his grace,
to follow my inner voice.

I will narrate about the
walking giants, silent birds,
and weeping Ashokas.

In togetherness we had
separated with hate in
aloneness.

The love bites don't
excite anymore. The religion
of sex and―

religion of war have
become one. I will not
recite any adage now.

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RENATA, 3 october 2021

latem

Wakacje lato i słońca żar
młodość kipi we krwi
ze wszystkich sił
wypalimy papierosów tysiąc
opalonej paczki kibić
zapałem płonie ognisko

polowania czas i podbój
wakacyjnych list przebojów
w duszy rodzą się dziwne tęsknoty
beztroska wśród morza fal
w imprezowe wieczory kiedy
ten JEDYNY szuka tej JEDYNEJ

szumią trawy i mewy i wino w głowie
cała paczka upojona wolnością
i Ty upatrzyłaś go sobie na wieczność
gwiazd dotyk jak zdobyć
i być zdobytym wino wypite
więc winne jak ocet oczy niewinne

Ambitni pełni zapału i chuci
nie patrząc w przyszłość chcemy
niemoralni być tak bezpruderyjni tak
na przekór mgłom wiatrom i burzom
na przekór głuchym telefonom
na przekór niechcianym ciążom
letnie tęsknoty nas niosą

w jesienne melancholie

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Satish Verma, 3 october 2021

In Vacuum

Before you eat
your words,
smear the dust of rose―

on your eyes.
The incense will blend
with your vision.

Don't walk like
a thief in the house.
Moon will face the night.

The bell rings
not. Tonight temple
god oversleeps.

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Satish Verma, 2 october 2021

Evening Prayers

I plant my last kiss
on the wall of mausoleum,
and turn back to face the
inevitable transparency.

Like a birthmark―
you stick to me for an eternity.
Honeyed tongue swaps
a blue. I am not a path,
only a candle in the wind.

Moon-washed your face
swims in my black eyes.
I search my genes
in you, for an answer.

In poetic jargon, with
broken wings, I take a flight
to that horizon, where
my aura ends and your spell begins.

Blameless-you spin,
and break into hundred of shards.
They become stars. I remain
stranded at sunset.

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Satish Verma, 1 october 2021

Grim Reminder

You come like undersea
quake, hitting
the sleeping moon.

No headlines,
no bleeding hearts,
just masochism.

Drinking angst
and spirit, from― a
Venus in exile.

After holy scripts
drifting out
with battle scars.

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RENATA, 30 september 2021

prawo mężczyzn

Tylko złotem zalutujesz usta
gdy głowa pusta

w grę wchodzi najwyższa władza
nie ma już żadnej świętości
można zabić przekupić
poderżnąć gardło udusić
tak jest w królestwie i konklawe
bezustanna walka
nie zawsze uczciwa

Filip v Długi choć ślepy
miał dalekosiężny rozum
jak lis przechera przekupił kogo trzeba
coś dał coś przyobiecał
zapędził w kozi róg
w siną dal przegnał

gdy już zasiadł na tron
zmęczony ujadaniem
próbował ratować to
czego nie było

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Satish Verma, 30 september 2021

In Praise Of Unknowing

The unthinkable,
has happened.
I am still alive.

After the harvest
moon, there were―
many aspirants,

to reach the Mars,
when a lynx left the
pug marks on their chests.

First snow went
deep in asylum.
All gates were locked.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

10 - 30 - 100

Latest items:

poetry

Slow Melting

Some Thinking Space

Not Your Doings

In Restraint

latem

In Vacuum

Evening Prayers

Grim Reminder

prawo mężczyzn

In Praise Of Unknowing

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