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poetry
Tim Kitchen, 17 august 2022
Little Man
Little Man.
There was joy, there was sorrow
there was darkness, there was light.
And then you came to be among us
on a cold and winter’s night.
The little miracle, we had hoped for
a gift to a father, of a son.
For this Grandad, a little playmate
And time together, full of fun.
For your Mother, what she hoped for
and it seemed would never come.
A little bundle of hope and joy
her very precious baby son.
With your smile you make us happy
if you’re sad we feel it too.
And our lives are so much better
when we spend our time with you.
You and me, we play together
football, cars, Spider-Man too.
In a world of fun and fantasy
that’s created by me and you.
When you grow to be older
and I can no longer be.
Hold me tight in your heart
and just remember me.
Satish Verma, 17 august 2022
Not The Thing
Life plays the tricks.
You become a meteor-
a streak of light, in the almond eyes
of a god.
I don; t like the grey areas.
Can you become fearless
and confess the guilt of drinking
the mercury? Blisters had
appeared on your face red and blue.
Was it a pure fault?
Mother earth smiles. When buried
alive thirty below the mound of lies
you remained alive.
Dehydrated, you speak
the truth and spill out the
false teeth. Your mind separates
from the heart and blood stains emerge.
Satish Verma, 16 august 2022
Great Kills
Let the dialogue begin
between the apostate and
the threatened god.
Heretic demands
an apology from the religion
of assassin.
The bleeding ancestors
release the mathematics
of grey crimes.
So your temple was
destroyed because of the lion
sitting at gate.
A moon falls on the
raw hides of innocents and
the planet stops breathing.
Satish Verma, 15 august 2022
Collecting The Relics
Predicted to fall.
Man battling against his
demonic spirits.
A killer silence
becomes a knife. Slicing your thumb.
You want to invoke
the missing gods, sleeping
under the dams.
No one should bring
me to tears. I disapprove
the color of blood.
My bones are becoming
stronger, without flesh. I walk
without legs on the hills of fog.
Do not throw the
acid on moon. Hands
will do.
You cannot pass through
a ring of fire. Bonding fails.
Satish Verma, 14 august 2022
For Intensive Eyes
There was something
between the lips.
You will not recite my name.
A muted word―
becomes a psalm at
execution. There was no
crowd to witness the grace.
If I prepare a book of
all my defeats, would you
write obituary.
The antiquities had become
alive. This was the beauty
of lunacy.
And the saint was dead
without meeting his god.
Satish Verma, 13 august 2022
You Walk Beside Me
Sharing my sweetbread
with you in densely days when
want spans religion.
You burn my roses.
Exiting the day I go for―
wash of cannabis.
Cannot forget you
once in my emptiness of
harvesting the moon.
Rains. The August night―
invites an apparition.
You walk through the door.
Satish Verma, 10 august 2022
There Was No Rebillion
Hiding the meaning
of life, you caused the
absurdity. Theater was not
ready for the audience.
An interim relief
comes for the aging. Blue
stars were moving away.
You will murder the sharks.
Skulls start playing. I
yell against the salt that splits
the tongue. Thick-lipped gods
start making the paper-nests
for the wasps.
Winter becomes warm-blooded.
There was no snow on
the trees. Owl butterflies
come out at dusk to collect
their dues.
When the sun sets, moon
shaped boys unroll the centuries.
Satish Verma, 9 august 2022
Soul Mate
You were wired, I
won't let you go with zinnias
in this beastly night.
I hate them all, the
ad verbums. Go gently in sea
to drown yourself.
That half-eaten apple
in the rains brings the message
of a fallen angel.
Take me home when I
forget, who was me, standing
in moonlight, eyes shut.
Satish Verma, 8 august 2022
Last Wishes
Like for Terra,
the goddess of the earth―
I will leave everything to you.
Hot legs run,
run for the sea of shame,
to wash the holy guilts.
It was a holocaust―
stonewalling to elicit,
the number of dead bodies.
Dark circles under
your eyes. I love them―
for the sake of darkness.
Prepare the swan
song for once, the blasts
were ready to encircle me.
Satish Verma, 7 august 2022
The Moral Suicide
Skin to skin
you cut the psyche,
after severing off limbs.
Xenophobia takes you
out of my life,
breached and stranded.
I will move to
another consciousness
to renew the peace of death.
Love-haters abound
now. Multiple wounding
starts cloning of unborn ideas.
Microholes leak the
secret. Between words there
was no space, only time.
A comet blows away the
angel dust. I stand forlorn
on water.
Latest comments:
10 october 2024
violetta
Piękne kwiaty, chcę takie na balkon:)
10 october 2024
Jaga
Zawsze znienacka jesień życia...
10 october 2024
Groch przez wieki był rzucany/ dzisiaj ściana
10 october 2024
Georginie jesienne :)
10 october 2024
Tak :))
10 october 2024
:)
10 october 2024
Muchomor czerwony, trujący. Ponoć wzięty przez
10 october 2024
sam53
:))))
10 october 2024
Eva T.
Jadalny?
10 october 2024
Link skierowal mnie do yyszukiwarki Google. Cytat
10 october 2024
:))
10 october 2024
Tak myślałam, a lepsze jest wrogiem dobrego
10 october 2024
wiesiek
10 october 2024
Jaga
10 october 2024
Eva T.
10 october 2024
Satish Verma
9 october 2024
wiesiek
9 october 2024
Satish Verma
8 october 2024
wiesiek
8 october 2024
Satish Verma
7 october 2024
Jaga
7 october 2024
wiesiek