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poetry
Satish Verma, 19 august 2020
Charisma
The caterpillar on the lawn-
in the name of god,
eating away the copper,
the blue veins of thighs.
Barefoot I come to wish
you farewell. You must stand-
in the decaying woods,
to pronounce me dead.
The auburn fawn climbs on
the podium, to mimic a birdsong.
It was sloth time. Moon was
away and it was dark.
The eagle swoops on tiny
breasts, popping up from the
nest of muse. There were no
feathers and no beak left.
Satish Verma, 18 august 2020
Secret Whereabouts
Deck is empty, today: -
physics of life unfolds.
I know you less now, what
I knew you earlier.
A cloud city after the collision
had become distraught, after taking
a dip in mudslide.
With chainsaw I am cutting
myself. Why not to become a fossil
with imprints of the collapse―
of our culture and education, in
coal pits of ancient times?
The body has hardened, bones
twisted in agony, I grab the window,
to pull in the sun. Only
the eyes will shine in dark.
Satish Verma, 17 august 2020
Lotus-Eating
A repeat lover,
moon comes back
every night in different robes.
It was a question
of your conscience, when
you were being eaten alive.
Hyenas will come again-
to unearth the bones, to
give you the message.
Remaining poor was a great
bliss.You don't
need to pay for anything.
The hunger goes deep.
Fathomless.Your eyes roam
in search of a face after the hanging.
Was he smiling?
You hanker to touch
the eyes, which were burning
like coals.
Satish Verma, 16 august 2020
Unwashed By Sins
Life had tossed you in
flames.
Like hearthstone, I sit
deleting my colors.
Time on black feet
runs, on the sacred
river bank.
Molten lava will ask
when, and from where
the funeral procession will start.
A hard core wants
the evidence of rape. Two
leaves will not cover
the naked aggression.
The spooky game had
become, ultimately- the biopic. Once
angles used to roam
on the burning coals.
Satish Verma, 15 august 2020
Why Question Marks
The milk run appears like
flesh trade. A bigamous
marriage with two ideologies.
The politics looks like
a fudged slogan. The silence
was broken by screams.
A dwindling faith, could
not revive the ancient Buddha.
There was no pity, no sorrow.
Activism wades on home-
turf. The colossal night
releases the lynx vision.
I am the cipher, you
said, will not connect
to any integer.
Satish Verma, 14 august 2020
Not A Renegade
The summer moon with
poetry and musk.
I waited full evening
to become a coherent whole.
I wanted to quit, like
a Buddha, not to come back
in the baked mud house
where the sun would not break.
The earthen lamp with
a flickering flame, under the
holy basil, wants to die
before the moonrise.
Paralysed lower limbs
will make you sit like a god
on the altar, deaf and dumb.
You don't want to learn
about the red lips of the goddess.
Moon was bleeding heavily.
Sit in a lotus position.
Sky is going to fall.
Satish Verma, 13 august 2020
Celebrating Dark
I do not write about something
or anything. You will
not knock at my door.
I will be pained, if
you sweep the floor, to
tout the unwritten song.
I sing wordlessly. Even
the echo will open
the waning wounds.
My body, I give to
hawks, to escape the
elegies in the death well.
Even the night
will bring the pillow
for the dying moon.
Satish Verma, 12 august 2020
Chanced To Meet
It was not,
just a kiss of a zodiac sign.
You had become a stranger
between fight and flight.
The trick was capricious.
Albeit, a calligraphy
on a bare tree, engrafting
your name which keeps
on growing with broadening trunk.
You watch the sky
at night and start a monologue.
The stars were expanding,
filled with grief. The
despair of going back home
in dark.
Satish Verma, 11 august 2020
Venom And Stings
Behind the iron mask, with
unsteady hands, I
separate the conjoined thoughts
and start greening.
I will ask, the god
after a chilling spectacle
of undying freeze, that
don't give me the bliss,
but only truth.
No mercy, no sympathy.
I will walk on the spiked
road to reach you in your own
sepulcher, to become you
and suffer.
Who needs eternity
to grieve for dying lights?
Darkness has its holiness.At least
you won't see the beasts in action.
O god, let the blue sky
open like an abyss to embrace
the fallen baby.
Satish Verma, 10 august 2020
Unpretending
In search of lost
memory, there was no regret
of losing any achievement.
A Buddha was ready
to walk away.
Zebra stripes become
evident at sunset.
Was there an eye in the eye,
the smell in the smell,
of an infant sea?
There will be no
ache retrieval. I am dancing
around the fire, reversing
a sin. The ugly and weird
life has become hypocrtical.
A smoke shapes your preference.
Latest comments:
11 october 2024
sam53
jesień tak ma... :)))
10 october 2024
violetta
Piękne kwiaty, chcę takie na balkon:)
10 october 2024
Jaga
Zawsze znienacka jesień życia...
10 october 2024
Groch przez wieki był rzucany/ dzisiaj ściana
10 october 2024
Georginie jesienne :)
10 october 2024
Tak :))
10 october 2024
:)
10 october 2024
Muchomor czerwony, trujący. Ponoć wzięty przez
10 october 2024
:))))
10 october 2024
Eva T.
Jadalny?
10 october 2024
Link skierowal mnie do yyszukiwarki Google. Cytat
10 october 2024
:))
11 october 2024
Satish Verma
10 october 2024
wiesiek
10 october 2024
Jaga
10 october 2024
Eva T.
10 october 2024
Satish Verma
9 october 2024
wiesiek
9 october 2024
Satish Verma
8 october 2024
wiesiek
8 october 2024
Satish Verma
7 october 2024
Jaga