Latest items:

poetry

Renato N. Mascardo, 1 january 2019

recension

every
decision that
we make we always think
we ought to rethink not leaving
what is well enough
alone//

renato
monday 31 december 2018

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Renato N. Mascardo, 1 january 2019

heartstrings

before
poets troped the word
anatomists knew the
aortic and pulmonary
vessels

hollow
cables holding
down the fort we call
our heart//

renato
monday 31 december 2018

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Satish Verma, 31 december 2018

Revised Version

A damp moon
staggers across the sky.
I will find my balance now.

*
Meditating on
the words and meaning,
I read your face.

*
Quasi-intelligent,
half-man, half-beast,
the new species.

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Satish Verma, 29 december 2018

It was in reach for,
a chilling sensation.
A flame of the moon.

The world shrinks.
You become ready
for the direst consequences.

You deserve to be hurt
in the arms of truancy,
without a trace of remorse.

The wounded breast.
It wanted to disappear―
and come back in dark.

Frozen, the repeat hymn.
It lives in my heart.
How can I forget you,
O, my tormentor!

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Satish Verma, 28 december 2018

Squeezing Out

The falcom rises again.
With pointed wings.
For a name unknown,
that deemed an incendiary.
Falconer sits faraway.

Cliché. The offence goes
unnoticed. Your shirt
was bloodied. Your
lips sealed. The barbs
stuck on kisses. Death smiles.

Water overwhelms, you
are drowned in the lake.
Eyes blink. Cannot
heed to light. The skin
burns. You will watch a medusa!

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Satish Verma, 27 december 2018

Biography

A name without
a face. I am an ancestor
unknown.

A shortened height,
difficult to exult
in honors bestowed.

The light hurts, in
earthen cave. You write
on wall of conscience.

The mud clings.
Stink covers you, like
serpentine arm.

The arbor has many
colors. I will choose
none in dark.

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Satish Verma, 26 december 2018

Preface

Between life and death
a photo finish race
will decide the relationship.

There was intoxication
at heights. Your throat had
become hoarsed, sliced
after a scream. Matchsticks
were thrust in the
gnawed mound of kneaded
flour. The kitchen
was going to explode.

Barehands you were
picking the black beans;
parting me lip by lip
caressing me thumb by thumb.

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Satish Verma, 25 december 2018

Wrapped In Stigma

The heritage
went for a sale. A tree
stands denuded, after
a nudie.

An orange land hides
the broken remains of terra
cota. I wanted an earthen
inkpot and a reed pen.

There was a wounded word
on the tongue. A
dragonfly leaves the voracious
appetite and skims on milk.

Pulsating cleavage
gets a prize. The salt lakes
are full. A caged bird
will not sing.

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Satish Verma, 24 december 2018

Rehabilitating Myself

How much honest you were
while climbing the stairs,
to inherit the shame of century,
invoking the remains?
A hip will not move for the voidance.
A notch below, the
exhumation will prove the Taser
attack, stunning the history.

Let us sit and take over tea
under the depressed moon, pondering
on the nature of man. When
you reach the top, you become
a lesser rich. Groping the lonelier
grief of poverty, I become
more humane. The water swells
very often, I see the world
now by closed eyes.

I walk with my shadow shrunk
under my feet. I become
the world.

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Satish Verma, 23 december 2018

Reviled And Revered

When hunger becomes
a little god. You start waiting
for a miracle to happen.
Like a grandfather clock, you
had stopped moving. Time
becomes a scoop from your ancestor’s
skull. You start digging
the floor for broken pins,
holding the secret prayers.
You watch yourself now
buried in words, picking up
some flowers with numb
hands, waiting for the ants
to come, to open the
curved in, corona of narcissus.

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10 - 30 - 100

Latest items:

poetry

recension

heartstrings

Revised Version

In Trepidation

Squeezing Out

Biography

Preface

Wrapped In Stigma

Rehabilitating Myself

Reviled And Revered

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