poetry

poetry
Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 27 april 2022



Escaping The Wait

Perfect domes―
beehived.

An alien sitting in
Mona Lisa? Do you believe in the
pshyche of a beekeeper?

A vision. The future tense
retrieves the past glory of tenseless era.
The mimicry will do its own job.

A freak incident. Earth was
moving. Corned bodies riding on lead.
You must fill up the blanks to―
prepare for lethal descent.

Idolatry. Every cult becomes
a new idol. Hate-filled sermons.
Yestersins will pay
for the mortgage.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 23 april 2022



Another Assault

Set free the water―
do not harm the spring.
A short poem will write your
theme in air, without asking.

The unbaked bread
will feed the oven.
And the silent prayers
will seal the lips.

The bride of desert―
weeps. No palms, no ariels.
You run over the ruins
to find the tools.

Now breathing stops. A
hammer strikes.

It was the tragedy
of a brainless tumor.
Aneurysm brings the stroke.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 16 april 2022



Pain Of Shingles

Hiding behind the faces,
you had pushed me to the edge.
Now Himalayas were weeping.

The self-mutilation
starts. Human body and mind
collide like tectonic plates.

There was no rape in
sacred marriage. Do you know the
anxiety and depression are not
only the human traits?

Psychosis. The obscenity
does not leave, and the language
starts dying. You block the
road. Nobody was going to leave
the doomed plains.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 10 april 2022



India Ink

In everyday life
you pick up a war with a―
moment in truth.

Unleashing a malign―
half gender― to speak
for the sake of a maker.

You were standing on
a fault-line, waiting for the
unhappened to happen.

I have come from a
faraway land to dig up the
legacy of the ruined convulsions of man.

The faith, a religion the
god were all forgotten when
you sit homeless, hungry under the sky.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 6 april 2022



Somebody Dies

You walk through me
opening the portal of―
unending moment.
A right to die lingers in the eyes.

Not a serenade. I am
tying the knot on the tree.
The wait was becoming too long. I
would read again Hamlet without the prince.

Truth was not happy, when
you brought down the body.
The wind was moving like a panther
stealthily before the kill.

How shall we bite our toes―
now? They have left
a bloody trail on the
weeping grass.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 5 april 2022



The Dirty Beliefs

More searing―
in fog of love.
You prepare the first draft―
of suicide.

It was not in your
handwriting from the left,
before sending―
the message.

The crash of the drone
before hitting the ground.
I apologize to sun for―
the brilliant fault.

I will never know
what did I give you.
My tulips were ravaged
by the statecraft of the winds.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 4 april 2022



No Coronation Please

Like toothache.
Would hear the voices
of dark.

No beginning, no end.
I will not conclude.
Like the setting sun in west
dying beautifully―
without moon.

It is a chilling confession.
No offending. Trying to
understand unmoving lips.

In my suffering
there was no faith healing.
I won't ask your hand.

Every syntax, regenerates
the truth of the dirty mind.

Living amidst the
dangers of orthopedic blunders
you cannot walk straight.

The queen has gone insane.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 3 april 2022



White Shrouds

The lips will speak
without sound.
A tuliped man hangs himself
down, from a tall tree of fame.

You wanted to live in the―
glare of slit throats.
The blood brings the brilliant
glitter of gold.

End of the speech will―
throw up a mascot. The noose was
tightening around the―
rising― glorious sun.

Slavery never ends. You
become victim of your dazzling
peaks, when you stand alone
at unthinkable heights.

The spirit of the tree dies in your eyes.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 2 april 2022



From When To Where

In deep bottom,
at first light, I
will give you a call.

Because, I was only bones,
muscles worn out in hymns
and the nudes were―
putting on the masks.

You will not deliver―
a denial, nor you will
put forward the Buddhist stance.

Like a curling fern you
want to go in dark shade―
eyes shut.

The circus of stunted men
and lady birds―
will go on unabated.

I swear by fire,
The battered umbilicus will
not bear any gods.

A miraculous escape. I
will not eat your
flesh, hot and red.

We start hitting each other


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Scott Clark

Scott Clark, 1 april 2022



Benjamin

Lit’l child, were ya ben
O’er the Sun or with yar kin.
O’ May’e with yar friends jamin.


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