Satish Verma, 25 may 2024
Lips collide. I
smear the memories on
your forehead.
Will you wake up
one day for me to rewrite
the mercy of wounds?
How shall we meet
before or after the demise
of cooling sun?
Satish Verma, 24 may 2024
The sage of tree
sits cross-legged under the
shade of dilemma.
Would you pray for
me when the thick forest
of hope catches fire?
Between mantras and
peace, comes the bifid tongue.
Half truth and half lie.
Satish Verma, 23 may 2024
The sage of tree
sits cross-legged under the
shade of dilemma.
Would you pray for
me when the thick forest
of hope catches fire?
Between mantras and
peace, comes the bifid tongue.
Half truth and half lie.
Satish Verma, 22 may 2024
You have lost
the innocence. Rainbow
will spread the news.
Word's power splits
the enigmas. The pain connects
the blood of limbs.
The yellow roses
grieve for the silken hold
of dying charisma.
Satish Verma, 21 may 2024
The contradiction
of winds on the tall dome
gives luxury of fall.
You step into fire,
and walk through the flames
to test the truth.
Threadbare life
was beautiful. There was
nothing left to give.
Satish Verma, 20 may 2024
There was no
blasphemy. Love gives
power to forgive.
Vestigial pain
was insulting. You always
feel a presence.
Beauty was intact.
You were sleeping on wings.
Bird was not ready to fly.
Satish Verma, 19 may 2024
If you come near
the moon, you will find the
collective grief.
Someone sets free
hundreds of fireflies
to begin talk with me.
The angels are
becoming boneless. Your throne
is dirty. Temple sobs.
Satish Verma, 18 may 2024
Grey air. I will come to myself, igniting
the fire. When will be ground reality known?
Standing on the cusp of pain.
It was not a legitimised, valorused decision.
When you will leave the things as
they are. I tossed the new born thoughts.
Great walls were crumbling
unfolding the ugly ephemeral cults.
Who gnaws my poems? Don't search
my unuttered words for your maturation.
Satish Verma, 17 may 2024
You were my mistake, O god
The road doesn't open now.
My hands cannot reach
to catch the salvo of anonymity
The pain differs from the flesh
Untouched, unbroken and stubborn.
You smell like jasmine.
The blood enfolds the injuries.
An ambush takes a violent turn.
You know who commands the wishes.
Satish Verma, 16 may 2024
What did you hurl?
Tell me all the lies. Pain―
and truth stand on stage.
Predawn jasmines,
open their eyes to
salute the sun.
A ligature bruise
on the body of moon speaks
of brutal assault.
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