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poetry

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, 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.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

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.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

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.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

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: 1 | detail

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: 1 | detail

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: 1 | detail

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: 1 | detail

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: 1 | detail

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: 1 | detail

10 - 30 - 100

Latest items:

poetry

Reviving The Schism

Unbecoming Of The Poem

Avoiding The Virtue

Ultimate Tongue

The Sun

Song Of Promotion

With No Apology

A Position

Phenomenal Defeat

Émigré

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