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poetry
Satish Verma, 29 march 2019
The Days Of Agony
Were you the face of God
in the temple of tooth.
When fire was playing The Return
of the Desert.
I feel cheated, when talking
of nonviolence, when you go for
self-immolation in the
water of straits.
The military boots had failed,
to quench the thirst of dead.
How would you dig the graves
of mauled, tribal gods?
The final mile of human race
comes in the face of triumph
of the death, sharing
the borders of flowing blood.
Satish Verma, 28 march 2019
Generously
Different hues were lit up.
A water drop falls on my lips.
I will ask the words
to traverse the circle of clouds
for cascading moon.
let the mob―
climb the mount of greed.
I am here on the earth,
to meet the flames
of thoughts and shades
of wounds.
There is hope and the
chains. I will receive
them in ecstasy.
Satish Verma, 27 march 2019
Your Half-Open Eyes
Moon dust was sprinkled
once more on mangroves
to extend the war
across the border.
This was an intricate rite
after the sad error, of
changing the itinerary
to pathless liberation.
The violence has spilled
over in the city of roses.
There was no water left
in the turbid estuary.
The herd was coming
to cross the sands of time.
Satish Verma, 25 march 2019
Pryingly
Nomadic words
do not stay with me
for long, after the betting.
The gamble was
pivotal, to find the
peace in jungle.
The alacrity to
remove the claudication,
when the heart stopped.
Objectively, a truth
will be dissected
to take out the lie.
Immoral was the
podium, which allowed
you, to stand for a sermon.
Satish Verma, 24 march 2019
Long-Feared Night
Eyes half-shut, you are seeing,
unseeing to house the failing light.
When the tornado writhes down, will
you come to clean the rubble?
And splash the bird, the sky in purple?
I am afraid of myself
to explore the craft of non-living.
When the silence descends, I will
know myself, like the bone of Buddha.
The words will not give
any relief, whipped into terror.
Satish Verma, 23 march 2019
Half-Drowned
The knot was broken
from the waist,
as if we were struck
by a bolt.
Thinking must stop.
Violence was there within
the pods, to explode and
eject the seeds.
The silent rape of a
sleeping book. You cannot
tear off the pages,
limb by limb.
You will not read the
past. Would not write
the future. The present roars
through the window starting a brush fire.
Satish Verma, 22 march 2019
Black Script
After the skin, the corti
were trying to measure the silence
before the cloudburst.
The white noises were
very accurate, disciplined shouts
ready to pull down the stapes.
A cochlear fall from the
great heights of vesuvian peak.
No matter how big was the chasm.
You have given up yourself
to broken stirrups. The planets
begin the dance without the god Apollo.
The road never ends. The
rider stands alone to ride the moon
gliding over the empty sea.
Satish Verma, 21 march 2019
Kaleidoscopic
In shadow of the moon, why
an illict bone, indentured
to the spirit of Buddha?
The footsteps were retraced
to find out the angst
of disappearing grass.
The blue eyes must remain
unclosed to print the
image of a pink cloud.
This desperate retraction.
I will not be able―
to write a single poem.
The unholy exit was
damaging the steel of a
proud man, still standing erect.
Roy Davenport, 20 march 2019
The Watch
He wore it faithfully for over sixty years,
A gift from his first small flock…tick tock,
To show their love for this man of God
Who had shared the Good News, tick tock.
But he shared more than just Good News.
He shared their joys and grief…tick tock
When words failed but love and friendship didn’t
The times when just being there was enough…..tick tock
From flock to flock, place to place he went where called
And always on his wrist, the watch kept him on time….tick tock
For weddings, funerals, joys and sorrows,just different faces
of the greater flock needing a gentle shepherd…tick tock
Oh what a price to be paid being a simple shepherd
.Each flock left its’ scars from bearing so many burdens….tick tock
But through it all a sense of calling kept him moving forward
While the watch ticked off, seconds, minutes, hours… tick tock
Without conscious thought he would wind the stem,
Note the time and go on serving, uninterrupted…. tick tock
Closer day by day to his promised reward for faithfulness
But always questioning his worthiness….. tick tock
That day came too soon, unexpected, but not unprepared for.
To the end his concern was for others despite the news…. tick tock
His great heart, his gentle soul made ready by years of service Came to rest just like the watch, faithful to the end, tick tock tick tock t…
RDavenport ©2010
Roy Davenport, 20 march 2019
Interrupted
Life was interrupted in March by a call that no one ever wants.
Despite countless brushes with eternity, we couldn't believe he was gone,
or perhaps it was just that you can never prepare for that kind of loss.
So now we count days since he left us and shred the occasional tear,
reminded daily by memories stirred by familiar faces or songs penned by
his God-given gift of music he lovingly shared with all.
But life goes on and we accept the loss and let time soothe our hearts.
The pain never leaves completely but becomes like an old friend,
silent, always in the background, looking for ways to remind us.
But just as surely as evening follows day, life follows death
and the circle, never ending, completes another rotation.
New life is breathed into existence, filling our hearts again with joy.
So it goes, on and on, life and death, God's plan being fulfilled.
Souls passing in the coming and going accompanied both ways
by Angelic presence watching and sharing in the grief and joy.
So we wait in anticipation of new life, foretold by a soothsayer to
a fostering family who waited with open arms the little angel
who had innocently joined this circle of life.
So without understanding but leaning solely on faith
we welcome every new day filled with grief, pain, joy
and resolve to move forward if only just a step or two.
For each step is a link in that never-ending circle of life that binds us to yesterday and tomorrow and forever.
There’s no circumventing that circle of life
that binds us to each other, to eternity,
to all that is humanity.
For Scott and Livia
RDavenport 2015 ©
Latest comments:
25 december 2025
violetta
Ładnie powieszone :)
24 december 2025
Toya
Przepiękny wiersz. Czytam sobie poprzez pryzmat
24 december 2025
Jaga
I Tobie Sam, wszystkiego dobrego, nie tylko od
24 december 2025
sam53
a propos miodu... smacznego piernika i innych
24 december 2025
staram się :))
23 december 2025
Umiesz malować, słowami :)
23 december 2025
Momencik Zimo! Rękawice musze sobie kupić,
23 december 2025
gdybym umiał malować byłoby jeszcze piękniej
23 december 2025
Pięknie było :)
23 december 2025
Weronika
Jeszcze się spotkamy.
23 december 2025
Dziękuję Evo :)
23 december 2025
Staram się Jeślinko :) Dziękuję :)
25 december 2025
wiesiek
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wiesiek
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