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poetry

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

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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: 2 | detail

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 | detail

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: 1 | detail

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 | detail

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 | detail

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 | detail

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 | detail

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 | detail

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 | detail

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 | detail

10 - 30 - 100

Latest items:

poetry

związki nie całkiem bezpieczne

"I Am Not"

Night Spots

Unthreading

Many Shades

Crumbling Down

Uninviting Destiny

Too Crowded Was Arena

Wounded And Alive

How Blue Was My Country

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