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poetry

Satish Verma, 7 february 2018

Ripped Apart

Looking back into
gray spring.
Would you find the images
of the constellation
of lilies?

*

What a
metamorphosis?
From a tigress to a
wounded bird, waiting
to pick up a flight.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 1 | detail

Balasubramanian, 6 february 2018

The Cold breeze which blows from the blue mountains, with bees swarming the lush green foliage

Bringing a Love Poem filled with words, which only unfolds, to our two hearts speaking the same language

Why is this air so sweet? Is it because of flowers blossoming in the evening, flooding our lungs with fragrance?

Or because of the thoughts of my beloved which are filled with ethereal love and seamless essence

The butterflies are humming their favorite tunes and flying towards our window-sill

The Peacocks cry and the Pigeons flutter, memories of our romance floating like wisps in the cotton mill

Reminds me that my dearest is around and it's time his warm embrace, surrounds my love thirsty soul

Taking me into a dreamy state of pure bliss, caressing me with a kiss on a well hidden knoll

How beautiful is this feeling, How beautiful is this life, dancing and swirling in the arms of the one

How charming is his smile which enthralls me with his eternal love like a benevolent sun

When we slowly meander into the garden of passion, with our little fingers entwined

Just like golden threads embroidered in a silk scarf, our two hearts merged and smoothly shined

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Satish Verma, 5 february 2018

Knife Into Us

Ethics of brands will find
out the anatomist,
who will rip apart the hope
from the bones.

Death will come from
underside. The sky
will remain blue even after
the murder of the moons.

The revenge at dawn
was very painful. The
crows will scatter the
light from your hands.

The mobile towers had
come to a standstill.
Sparrows had become suspicious,
left for a holy bath.

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Satish Verma, 4 february 2018

Logistics

Midnight encounter.
In moon, on sand.
Why you were igniting a sheltered home
of wounded pride?

The blood spills
over the sea, in boat.
You were unrelenting, against traction
violence of unhappenings.

The blackness blooms.
A man will cross midstream,
writing on water the name of a lamb
who refuses to surrender.

I sit between the
kisses of dragonflies.
An empty paper nest waits for the wandering
wasps to come back with stings.

number of comments: 1 | rating: 1 | detail

Satish Verma, 3 february 2018

Ascendancy

Seizing a chance in
a trice, in one dark September
night of apotheoses-

a bird crashed in my
lap. I would not know
the virginity of the strange surrender.

The windows were tall,
with the black laces violating
the sovereignty of light.

I will not know you, will
not call the black magic,
will not transcend the body.

The white lilies were
staring down at water.
Was the dawn nearby?

number of comments: 0 | rating: 1 | detail

Satish Verma, 2 february 2018

The Judgement

You had the numbers.
The reverse trends begins-
with uneasy and dark ambush.

A fatal miscue. You
will get the message.
The fingerprints will stay on the wall.

Enduring the onslaughts.
Remaining sky-clad I
will wander in your arms.

Fighting with the curves,
on sleepy islands, will
you hail my outstanding landing?

The revelation has a price.
You will not open the envelope
till I am dead.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 2 | detail

Satish Verma, 1 february 2018

A Perilous Journey

For a moonshine,
there was no moon.
There was no moon
for a moonshine.

It starts a tenuous
soliloquy, raising a –
slew of questions.

Slew of questions will
evoke a mixed response.

Were you ready for
a sleepover at the shrine
to watch the St. Vitus’s dance.

It was leaking at night
from the corner of eyes.

Unaging was the secret
of polity. Are you in?

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma, 31 january 2018

An Opusculum

No stitches will work.
You have to navigate-
in mendacities.

You have to navigate-
in mendacities to find
the truth, the truth.

A papyrus write may
know the future, the destiny,
the future, the destiny.

You always run to piss
at the tree, to draw
the borders. The animal.

The animal within you, becomes
salmonella, dones a cap,
enters the dome.

Enters the dome.

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Satish Verma, 30 january 2018

Laissez-Faire

The smile conceals, something.
Does not offer any cue.
You were still traveling
within.

You wanted to leave the world,
as it was, without cleaving
the wood, not accepting the veneer.
It rang an alarm bell.

To evolve their own persona;
good to take their own path.
The fallout was widening.This
was an insider’s story.

What an audacious withdrawl;
and you were in a silent mode like a Buddha
to uptake the film of dust
settling on the innocent rape of book.

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Satish Verma, 28 january 2018

End Thinking

First encounter was skimpy
unleashing a terror
of tales. I will not find the
perfect body of a poem.

Remember,
the salt lake, where you were
drowned one day in the eyes
of the needle.

It was an ode for the failed
prophecy which predicted
the fall of an author
in the ravines of jealousy.

A trampled butterfly exudes
the yellow fumes. Meanwhile
you can draw a nude on
the road for bystanders.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

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Latest items:

poetry

Ripped Apart

Entwined Love

Knife Into Us

Logistics

Ascendancy

The Judgement

A Perilous Journey

An Opusculum

Laissez-Faire

End Thinking

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