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poetry
Satish Verma, 3 march 2020
A River Flows Inside Me
You drape me, with wet kisses
O moon.
I will not forget you
in freezing rain.
At dangerous arch,
blue-veined―
milk in milk has made me red.
The ecstasy digs out
the hidden lyric,
I would never sing.
Will you find any
questions, to defeat the―
intimacy of a rape?
A hurt here, a bruise
there, my faded shirt
covers the poems.
Satish Verma, 2 march 2020
Defeating Death
To you, I
send my silence,
before the fire starts, to engulf
the open barn.
This mourning must stop.
I will wash your feet, of mud
and wet grass. You have
come after crossing the jungle of black roses.
Tomorrow I will call swallows.
A peacock will replace the
ruined, plundered, silk poppies.
The bleeding sky turns blue.
On the road, echoes
of greedy words will eat the smiles.
Satish Verma, 1 march 2020
Troubled Waters
Burning the pages
unread.
A daunting task
to rebuild the bruised relic,
of future, which I see
in my dream. This was―
the desire, till
the last flame dies out.
I am not sure of
myself. I will chase
a spider, climbing the
wall. I want to know where
it was heading, carrying
a headless fly, to bury
a spotless name in the
web of mortal threads.
Satish Verma, 29 february 2020
My Chivalry
What happened? I would
ask the realness
of genocidal face.
The blue cock
was numb in the laser thin
commentary.
The face was mirror. You
can apply a salve by implanting a womb
in the barren dream.
Beheading a thought
was not sufficient to kill the theme.
It will come back with revenge.
OCD. I come back again and again to
look at the portrait
of a failed god.
Satish Verma, 28 february 2020
Abstraction
Amnesia.
I want to drink tonight,
purple hellebore.
Like to protest―
the display of private things.
The humming.
The alphabet of
betrayal. Who wants
the award?
Amnesia.
I dream of dying,
feeding the doves.
Was it too early
to start getting dressed up
without a show?
Amnesia.
The hyphens don't
connect now the broken strings.
Satish Verma, 27 february 2020
Poem
Not knowing―
was a bliss, writing
a poem.
Words fall―
Like small birds,
flying.
I pick up
the sorrow, of the
blue sky
inaudible.
Satish Verma, 26 february 2020
Map Reading
In blood and grass
lies the snowman.
I must not look at it twice
after the spring melt.
The black magic has failed.
A mooned night will―
not reflect the real intent
of song's proxy in dark.
A lethal mix of twilight
and solstice, squats in gloom
to listen the surrender
of shine.
The glorious name, ultimately
drops the hint,
of profanity, written on wall.
Satish Verma, 25 february 2020
Broken Armour
I hear your voice
coming from within.
The disconnect, the cultural clash,
from river,
from tree,
from the golden nest.
The circle was complete,
breech birth,
the explicit insult.
The parched moon―
will bring the cold
tears, to extinguish the sparks
going home.
The roadway leads
to nowhere land. You will
again meet the wounded
cuckoo which will always sing
the hurts.
Satish Verma, 24 february 2020
Contemplating
It was just my time.
To become responsible for
me and I had become recluse,
to lose my memory,
to pay back my debt.
I am returning
the gifts,
of night, birth and
sacrifices.
The wheels―
had pulled me to slavery.
I am now floating,
wingless,
weightless,
for I cannot see―
the parental fall.
Satish Verma, 23 february 2020
Blackest Mood
Indicted,
the firm grass―
will start a fire. I was trying
to find my path in smoke.
On fingertips, was at stake,
the creek's departure.
I would wear a mask
hiding my emotions.
We will wait for the spring.
There was still a mound of snow
at the door.
The rape of the moon
was not in cards. We were ready
to sit in moonlight, reading
our hands.
Philosophy of death
has many questions. Religion
of birth has many answers.
Latest comments:
14 november 2025
sam53
dziekuję :))
14 november 2025
violetta
Piękne, do poczytania:)
14 november 2025
Marzą mi się takie włosy;)
14 november 2025
To autoportret mamy:)
14 november 2025
Chyba Madera:) czuję się potęgę Oceanu:)
14 november 2025
absynt
Na przekór sobie, wypierając oczywiste smakujemy
14 november 2025
Najważniejsze w życiu jest samo życie, fascynacja
14 november 2025
Milcząc wciąż krzyczymy, że lustra kłamią
14 november 2025
Choć raz utopić pragnienie, by rzucając kamień
14 november 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
wiedziałem, że tak odpowiesz, ale ja nie wiem,
14 november 2025
smokjerzy
lub - przyjmij ode mnie ten skromny podarunek...:))
14 november 2025
nawet mój kot wie, że pchła to jedno z najbardziej
14 november 2025
wiesiek
13 november 2025
wiesiek
13 november 2025
Jaga
13 november 2025
ajw
13 november 2025
ajw
12 november 2025
wiesiek
11 november 2025
wiesiek
10 november 2025
wiesiek
9 november 2025
wiesiek
8 november 2025
wiesiek