Latest items:

poetry

Satish Verma, 16 february 2021

In War

O Earth,
today, standing on your bones
I will study my fears.

I am talking to myself
to say everything, which I don't
mean, presiding over the violence.

Bullet-ridden I
will return your sorrow
to sky, hailing the stars.

From grief to grief
I walk pigeon-toed,
to explore the mines of seed thoughts.

In summer, you
offer the naked hands to me
to write the poem of the day.

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Satish Verma, 15 february 2021

Prayer In Message

There were no regrets―
from the life to lose the game.
Tell me, how can I forget
you, when flesh was melting
from the bones?

The poetics. This was not
the world, I had dreamed.
Sinkhole. You are swallowed alive.
The script was changing.
War allows to drop the morality.

Eye shamed. For your sake.
O God, I had loved your creation.
Why it had become dirty?
This was no more my property.
Take away the loaned apples.

It is the split,
the divide. I am walking
barefoot to feel the bygone dead
sacrifices.

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Paweł Szkołut, 14 february 2021

In café Mleczarnia

For K. & Ł.

On the pictures from the café in Kazimierz
we are sitting at the open front window,
the mirrored glasses reflect our shapes,
the flame of a candle and a yellow tulip,
chocolate is flowing down the white cup

we are talking about the origins of the Universe
and the atom’s construction,
about the mystical journeys to the East
and Tarkowski's films,
we dispute over the divine nature of Messiah
and gnostic ideas of salvation

experiencing everything anew
and constantly looking for our own way -
we open ourselves to the Logos’ action

the time is elapsing,
the faded portraits of old inhabitants
look at us from the walls,
the candle is dimming
and it becomes colder,
on the following pictures
we are sitting in the café’s back room

our hearts touch the opposite feelings,
we’d like so much from life - but we want also
to be free from our desires

in our heads there are still sounds
from the jazz concert at the club Alchemia,

outside it has silenced the noise from the Jewish square
- and thousands miles away
Jerusalem is plunged into a dream

the Logos is wandering among us,
somewhere in the distance we try to see
the royal outlines of his face

immortalized on the pictures
from café Mleczarnia
we are sailing through the spring night
to the promised land
or not

IV 2008

* Mleczarnia – (Eng.) dairy

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Satish Verma, 13 february 2021

Ceremonial

Coming of age becomes
temporal, when
I start to speak.

It was my ancient wound-
which had come into being,
to bleed.

No mannerism,
idiosyncrasy or culture
was needed to stay dumb.

Time runs in a
narrow tunnel, to cross the enemy lines.
I will unmourn my death.

Like collecting the bluebells.
After the burial of candor,
there was no other ceremony.

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Satish Verma, 12 february 2021

Something To Happen

The ache of taking a
call, when my
book was burning.

I scramble to warn
the bees, not to
come near the sundew.

Words hide the
sticky floor. Walk prudently
to swap the hunger strike

for bread and wine,
as the fingerprints untangle
the mystery of desires.

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Satish Verma, 11 february 2021

Not Left Behind

I will keep on
looking back, when you would
not be there.

Trying to put it behind me, the
Moon-blind dysphoria.

The riddled moments. You
are badly hurt, but
would not say.

Bare-boned, in
the oasis of flesh.

The mankind―
why were you feeling let down
by animalcules?

Into the grave milieu,
you― sleeptalking, without
voice.

Trying to rekindle the
flames from the wet eyes.

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Satish Verma, 10 february 2021

Causing Intense Pain

Clouds had veiled
the waning sun.
A topaz.

A blast,
becomes quite blasé at first
then becomes green.

With envy, the moon
gives no light.
My faith tumbles.

Sometimes I ask myself.
Why did you cover
your sore spots?

As a perfect pretext
of buying peace
why did you go for the lies?

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Satish Verma, 9 february 2021

Warbirds

O Zero man! you come
with a continuous denial,
of thirst of war,
a habit, predation.

When would you cross the blood lines?

The night blooms.
Sucking stars, moon
and chaste boundaries.

Nothing moves in the
stillness of voice, words.
A green light floats.

When there will be peace?

en face, I was ready to
fold the words, the sky.

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Satish Verma, 8 february 2021

Lift The Death's Veil

Questioning yourself―
like a Spanish Inquisition.
Ruthlessly digging out,
the anatomy of arrogance.

No flavor. I speak
to myself of atypical
intolerance of a man in revolt.

The slavery of tongue will not go.

On the verge, the other
thought collapses. No longer
the heritage remains faithful.

Love suddenly becomes
stranger. You won't touch
yourself. The narcissism becomes suicidal.

The black song
empties the mind. You want to weave,
but air does not become green.

I stand alone. The cosmos
moves away.

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Satish Verma, 6 february 2021

Sparklers

Life, sex and pain were
of mundane existence.
From where to where, we
have arrived.

*

From a bridge to bridge
you cross the river
without touching the water.

*

When a nameless projectile
downs your flight
you fall like rags
from the sky.

*

A spider runs
on tiptoes
you wilt like mimosa.

*

The ink spills
an the sheet
hiding the code.

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10 - 30 - 100

Latest items:

poetry

In War

Prayer In Message

In café Mleczarnia

Ceremonial

Something To Happen

Not Left Behind

Causing Intense Pain

Warbirds

Lift The Death's Veil

Sparklers

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