Satish Verma, 6 january 2024
Never had been
at distant pain to hear
the water's song.
At interstices
of tears, threads, filter
the salt of soul.
Muscularity of
oath melts. The fusion cracks.
You move away.
Satish Verma, 5 january 2024
Would we meet
again under half moon
in wounded light?
In the aura of
bleeding pain, I inhale
your parting kiss.
You are weighless
now, sleeping on air bed
to float in scented sky.
Satish Verma, 4 january 2024
Moon was slit in
neck tonight. Can you explore
unutterable words?
A mysterious hand
rows your boat in inner
water intoning bliss.
You will quit softly
I will caress your soul
in the tucked pain.
Satish Verma, 2 january 2024
Give me a live
poem, like a mantra
chanting around body.
O teardrop, open
the grave of unseen
pain of hiding god.
Rains are waiting
to wash the black face of
the maligned moon.
Satish Verma, 1 january 2024
I am selling my age.
Going stone in market. Honestly
I have exhausted my thoughts.
Midnight syndrome begins.
The salt of my lips had disappeared.
A cruciform face hangs in the air
IS this inertia of the brain?
I am conscious of the yellow moon.
Howling of the wolves will start.
Satish Verma, 31 december 2023
When you plan to quit,
the ghost limb will slash the wrist
to swallow pride.
I do not want to
call you my yesterday. Past
takes revenge.
Nemesis comes
to play its role. Divine
punishment for me.
Satish Verma, 30 december 2023
Your absence
creates an aura. The
concealed hurt.
Today when the sun
of longest day goes down,
the night will wait.
To buckle under
the titanic grief of
sea, not sinking me.
Satish Verma, 29 december 2023
Longing to sit on
your pink lips, a butterfly
wants to say goodbye.
Bloodletting was
a big mistake. Only
white shroud imprints.
You had passed
through my body leaving
footmarks in eyes.
Satish Verma, 28 december 2023
You wished a
talented end. When you
denied me, where
Was the wrong moon?
Like nightbird you birthed
an astral poem.
Plunged in bone―
deep, an arrow ejects a
rose from belly button.
Satish Verma, 27 december 2023
I am not a paragon.
Everyday I will repeat
some hymns to myself.
Sometimes the
truth becomes transgender.
From god to goddess.
Grace and courtesy.
The moon anchors a smile.
Tears roll silently.
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