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poetry
Satish Verma, 27 july 2020
My Opus Was Melting
I was preparing myself
for a Socratic dialogue, when
you come unannounced.
If lie was the answer,
then where was the truth.
Meet me night before
night with naked names,
smashing the space and time.
The invisible particles at last are in view.
Can you count after the
trillionth number, eighteenth
digits and beyond.
Nothing gives me peace.
I want to say, I am the God
to end the discussion.
That ignites an explosion
and we begin our journey again.
RENATA, 26 july 2020
Demakijaż
[wszystkie baby z ,ławki
choćta do poprawki]
jak malowane starsze panie
z pozoru miłe kulturalne
każda powie dzień dobry i zagada
a potem jazda sąsiada obgada
tylko przy niepogodzie
jak to bywa w przyrodzie
za tapetą kryje się jędza
która plotką plotkę napędza
to w kościele to w parku na ławce
obrabia cudze dupy przyklei łatkę sąsiadce
gdy deszcz pada zza szyb wypatruje
jak żmija wiedzma i Mata Hari się zachowuje
błądzi wtyka nos surfuje i szpieguje
jedna z drugą baba jaga paznokcie maluje
okularki i fryzurka dobrej babci z podwórka
po demakijażu wychodzi jaszczurka
można rzec że to kameleon
barwy zmienia
a to ta pani z naprzeciwka
jest aż tak słodko wścibska
Satish Verma, 26 july 2020
Understatement
Perched on a tree high
wave,
a moon was talking long
to me.
A live-in partenership
was in vogue. We always
loved each other breasts apart.
The weather was changing.
A plane load of tears would
disappear without a trace.
From somewhere a benign
lump explodes, making night,
a brilliant dream of
sleeping sky.
The hare jumps on the moon,
to snatch away the ambulatory
age, browsing around the death.
Satish Verma, 25 july 2020
What Next
Between the swaying palms,
moon was moving
in armada.
Why did you come
late, to whisper, of the
explosive explicit?
But for a lone
cry, I would not
take you.
The jewels were mine.
You had stolen
from my waistband.
It substracts the
stings from my
hobbling gait.
Satish Verma, 24 july 2020
Waiting To Happen
Being you,
not the bee queen.
Volatile as it appears, would say
one day, I don't know you yet.
The estranged mogul
returns home, empty-
handed.
Don't tell me in
stark and straight words, one
needs clemency.
The flame had touched me.
A strange panorama, created
by the geometry of violence,
now hurts.
Speed and direction
liberates the path breaker.
Resonance of your voice rises,
reading the same poem
again and again.
Segmented icons would not sleep
on the same bed.
Satish Verma, 23 july 2020
Revealing
When you take a false
lead, life will undo the seeds
and the cataracts freeze.
This is the story of
a butterfly, in disturbing amber
buried in snowfall.
Can your body take the imprints of flogging?
When you start sketching the polar ice
in the story of death, compounding
the mystry of
unleashing sea
of the fawn eyes, whose message
was sent in water?
Satish Verma, 22 july 2020
False Accusations
Every night you become
an insect, crawl into
the bed and chew the lips of unknown,
listening to the music
of flowing blood.
Outside the slogans-
tear at you. It was a wound
night, the words, untouching the space,
go- straight into the echos,
without any halo.
So where did you sink in
defiant orange of the sea,
while turning back from your designed
path? Another terrorist's sexism
was on play?
There were no barnacles, no
frog mimicry. I silent walk into
the arena to find the length of
the caravan.
Satish Verma, 20 july 2020
The Décor
Sexist barbs against
wooden breasts, street-smart.
I am something not, I am. A wall
of tears. Liquid nicotine, I will not declare
myself, creating a poem in different ways.
Waywarding, protégé digs the gullies―
becoming unfaithful to himself. The
hope, will it be extinguished? The
tall mud slide, a devastating statement
burying you, me, everyone.
A black beetle, collecting carcasses,
to feed the young. It is on the rise,
green sea. I cannot see myself bleed,
by the grasshoppers. It is like
committing suicide solo.
Satish Verma, 19 july 2020
Sense Of Betrayal
You will find one day,
water footprints, when
seismic events stop in eyes.
Don't you think a system
of mutual respect should-
be followed, before the
conception of a new rage.
Moons come and go.
You upturn the clock racing
the time to-
reach infinity.
Where the hundred stars
die daily, do you still
want to become a blue light
in the misty house-
of headstones?
Satish Verma, 18 july 2020
Existential Plight
Will not put any claim.
Neonate my poem
has gone gray.
Black days and white
nights.I will recall my
ghost and ask, O god-
do you exist anywhere?
A thread of pain, makes
a family of feet, climbing
in smoke.
Vulnerable to theft, my
thoughts divert me towards
cemetery, where I will
bury my sins.
You remained a question
for me on calender date.I
will hold on the time,
which has thrown me back.
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