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poetry
Satish Verma, 22 february 2022
Lost Vision
The pain cycle
celebrates the pitfall,
dedicates to the eternal flame
of catharsis.
Syllables were ready to
burn word by word,
orchestrated for a
random repeat.
Like blue veins opening
in dark without spilling the―
blood. But no answers
were coming to compliment you.
Image of self in mirror
sometimes frightens. Now
you begin living without―
body, metaphysically.
A bonfire starts.
Satish Verma, 21 february 2022
The Candle In Snow
An executioner
gazes up into your eyes,
hotting up the gazella.
I am not an asylum seeker.
Was it an insult
to the animal, if I follow a sane path?
From my side of earth,
using different names, unflinchingly
I will speak for the bloody truth.
I never miss a tiger,
even with white coat and
brown eyes. Yellow stripes bring stasis.
Death arranges
the table. You pick up your dish.
O God, I wanted to be like you.
A stunning silence,
again pushes me towards you.
You always grin.
Satish Verma, 20 february 2022
Convolutions
Unhinged
in final descent.
A distrust starts
the speechless howling.
The veiled threat
to lock the door
and see the other world.
II
Unmarried― the pears
will not ripen.
Sense of persecution
haunts.
The doves fly away
you wrote your name on the wings.
Satish Verma, 19 february 2022
In Bald Sun
Visible
of invisible blues―
the hesitancy
to shut the door.
I speak for
myself in haze
reaching heights
and deep sea.
The mother in
child weeps;
when we will
meet father?
Insufficiency
brings the split.
Satish Verma, 18 february 2022
Reading Arthur Rimbaud
Dressed to assassinate,
not having much hope.
Were you really―
serious for me?
Like en face
a star giggles, between
quivering small moons.
The night is drunk. You
hear a long hoot, from
enfant terrible, to scare away
the kiss of inevitable.
What a bliss to live
in the black heart of the moment,
when the sun unwraps
the flame.
Complete annihilation
of million desires. You
become the walking death
of unknown.
Satish Verma, 17 february 2022
Between Us
As it appears―
as if nothing stops you and
the spring will ask the direction.
Like a bipolar, I will swing
between moon and sun.
It may not sit true with me
like a lethal drop in an empty cup!
I don't know, what I think
in dual state of mind. Time stretches.
As if involuntarily my―
hands start shaking.
Not yet. It was my wound.
I have to carry my ship down
the river. In hour of ending
would you come to write―
the ascending pain?
Perfection incomplete. There is
voiceless silence.
Satish Verma, 16 february 2022
Miracles Don't Happen
Part of me― like a morpheme,
you are leaving.
Now I will stand without legs.
The slain shadow moves
from face to face. I
have yet to complete my chapter.
I know what you have to offer.
But I wanted more of
your intimate thoughts about life and death.
You have frequent mood swings.
Sometimes you wanted to go insane
in this clever and wise world.
I trace the terrain of the
inaccessible mount, where one day
you will find broken hull.
Satish Verma, 15 february 2022
The Stony Heart
Looking in your hazel
eyes, I was thinking.
I don't need
second coming. I want
you once for all.
After assassination
of a live truth, I will wear
a cap without an emblem.
I was moving away from the crowd,
after burning the dead.
Why it was so loud?
It was a gratuity? After the
bloodbath, do you still need a bank?
My God, I am tired
of you. Seeds were scattered
for the love birds. I don't find the
moon break.
No about-face
I was still proceeding
towards the lake of tears.
Satish Verma, 14 february 2022
The Delgue
Blood side by side.
Your risqué humor
ejects the foul nerves.
No religion was my
mother. My prayers were meant
for undying.
The vital fluid boils
without sun.
Pythagoras comes back
to retrieve the numbers.
The mystical figures have failed.
Not afraid of fear.
clenching my fist, one day,
I have to meet my other self.
Satish Verma, 12 february 2022
Standing Out From The Crowd
The weight of charity
sits on my shoulder.
I call for healing
on my terms.
We will divide the
funeral rites for undead―
nourshing survivor's massive,
sin. My path to truth opens.
Chasing a butterfly for
redemption, stuns me.
You were born of your―
own seed.
The guilt ultimately
overtakes. You initiate
unloading the vowels. Words
start flying without wings.
Latest comments:
28 november 2024
Eva T.
:)
28 november 2024
Belamonte/Senograsta
Kiedyś podziwiałem Millera i zazdrościłem
27 november 2024
violetta
Taki kamuflaż:)
27 november 2024
Niesamowite zdjęcie
27 november 2024
Pieknie swiatek w kropli wyglada :)
27 november 2024
"figowe" jeszcze sie trzymaja ;)
27 november 2024
A tak, tak :))
27 november 2024
:))
27 november 2024
:))
27 november 2024
Jaga
Komu, Evie, czy czapli? ;)) Myślę że same
27 november 2024
:))
27 november 2024
Marian Banaszak
nie wolno podpowiadać
28 november 2024
Eva T.
27 november 2024
absynt
27 november 2024
absynt
27 november 2024
Eva T.
27 november 2024
Jaga
27 november 2024
Eva T.
26 november 2024
wiesiek
26 november 2024
absynt
26 november 2024
Jaga
25 november 2024
Teresa Tomys