Latest items:

poetry

Satish Verma, 2 january 2015

THE BUDDHA WAS GOING TO WEEP

For the fusion of minds
let the long vigil of night begin
for a cultural shock.

Prayer wheels were whirring
furtively.
The Buddha was going to weep.

Imperial march of hundred
thousand boots in fever
wakens the darkness under the milk.

Famished ghost of a town
can foresee the rumbling of
a dark moon behind the trees.

Bullet for bullet
in inner empire.
Gold lips cry at every reason.

Burnt-out shrine will tell a tale.
They were diluting silence of walls,
blood stained by the crash of towers.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma, 1 january 2015

FAILED PERFORMANCE

For death of conflicts,
and conflicts of death,
the coming of cessation, I was waiting.
Tomorrow must come
before eternity,
that inness, I will come to terms with one day.

The absoluteness of certainties
creates a danger of half-truths.
An intelligent mind suffers _
in ther era of hoaxes and contradictions.
The happenings of existence
continue without dignity.

Hand-picked rainbow is dumped
face down in shallow creek,
drugged, raped and abandoned
to lose colours in water.
When the sky hangs on the shore
the blue sea sends the condolence.

The sharp cleavage of silicon breasts
weeps for a failed performance.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma, 31 december 2014

BLUE DIVINITY

In situ,
a pod holds a promise,
in the wake of a terrorist bomb.
Peace,
said a weeping well –
my bucket is empty again.

Because of a spin
in the rainbow
sky was becoming dark.
The hand on the trigger was trembling.
You are praying,
for a dying god.

And the golden dust was sprayed
on the sins, yellow wishes
to walk on water, killing truth.
Time was moving very slowly.

The flame burns low,
giving out blue divinity,
for resurrection.
New born grass under the feet
was trying to smile.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma, 30 december 2014

A VERY HURT POEM

Last night
moon was following me
discreetly,
skirting behind the trees.

A white splendor
drips,
like a dropped coin
on poor’s hand.

Did you see the blood
on roses?
The petals were wounded
in rain.

Casual violence
spreads in the streets.
I write a very hurt
poem.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma, 29 december 2014

ANAPHYLACTIC SHOCK

Night was descending
on the tonsured heads,
terracotta robes,
clasping the palms, hiding the seeds
of earth.

Against a ban on lips
for belonging truly.
Blissful. The squids settle in the weeds
of overbrimming sea of arms.

Blood was red, brown and pale.
oozing from the slit eyes,
soaking the green voices, herbs and sad kisses.
In the death, your name will be engraved on your shoes.

The steps were small
but shadows were very long on the ice.
The stings unflawed, did their job.
Suddenly you go
in anaphylactic shock.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Renato N. Mascardo, 28 december 2014

After the Wane

affair

at the start titillation was what we shared
in the end drudgery was all we felt
and in the midst we missed the meaning
of the experience we now call an affair
beyond the pale of the experience we built
pointed palisades and deep furrows between us two
but time dulls the sharpened stakes of ire
and shallows the deep-mined furrows of hurt
until we come to accept that absent of
a relationship we can still choose to relate//

renato
saturday 27 december 2014

number of comments: 0 | rating: 1 | detail

Satish Verma, 28 december 2014

SUICIDE NOTE

One day you will arrive.
Night will enter in your pores,
in your bones,
like a baby trapped in a borewell,
crying, striking,
thumping.

On each table, salt moaned
for a classical taste.
A pink moon was smothered
in a virgin bed.
Death walked in a sensual style.

A black discharge continued
from the areolae.
Botox failed to uplift
the sagging breasts.
A thallium capsule broke on tongue.

There was no suicide note.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Karen Adams, 27 december 2014

Jesteś jak mgła.

Jesteś jak mgła
Oplatasz mnie dookoła
Jesteś jak wiatr
Owiewasz mnie dookoła
Jesteś jak cień
Zawsze ze mną
Gdy ciebie nie ma
Czuję ze mi brakuje powierza do oddychania
Czuje że brakuje mi słów, by to wyrazić
Czuję że więcej cierpię
Milczę
Tracę radość bycia
Życie przestaje być piękne, urocze , kochane
Bez ciebie brakuje mi miłości
Bo człowiek tylko z drugim człowiekiem może być w pełni szczęśliwy.

You are like a fog
You wrap me around me
You're like the wind
You're blowing me around
You are like a shadow
Always with me
When you're gone
I feel that I lack the air to breathe
I feel like I have no words to express it
I feel like I'm suffering more
I am silent
I'm losing the joy of being
Life ceases to be beautiful, lovely, and loved
Without you, I miss love
Because a person can only be fully happy with another person.

number of comments: 1 | rating: 2 | detail

Karen Adams, 27 december 2014

Jesteś pięknym motylem

Jesteś pięknym motylem.

Jestem jak filiżanka z porcelany
Delikatna
Możesz mnie stłuc bezpowrotnie
I więcej się ze mnie nie napijesz
Jestem jak motyl
Gdy za mocno mnie chwycisz
Połamiesz mi skrzydła
I przestanę wzlatać
Jestem jak kwiat
By zakwitnąć
Potrzebuję słońca i wody
Aby zapuścić korzenie.

You are a beautiful butterfly.

I'm like a porcelain cup
Soft
You can break me irretrievably
And you won't drink any more from me
I am like a butterfly
When you hold me too tight
You'll break my wings
And I will stop flying
I am like a flower
To bloom
I need sun and water
To take root.

number of comments: 1 | rating: 5 | detail

Satish Verma, 27 december 2014

WINDS

Trapped in your body
a city starts
screaming.

The master has broken off
a huge iceberg.

An Antarctica is burning
like hermitage
from the spark of a red robe.

Lips are riddled
with lies.
No face is left
to smile.

Ruthless with the words
and meanings,
they have manipulated the winds.

The puppets
have come to stop
in complete silence.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

10 - 30 - 100

Latest items:

poetry

THE BUDDHA WAS GOING TO WEEP

FAILED PERFORMANCE

BLUE DIVINITY

A VERY HURT POEM

ANAPHYLACTIC SHOCK

After the Wane

SUICIDE NOTE

Jesteś jak mgła.

Jesteś pięknym motylem

WINDS

Latest comments:

contact with us