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poetry

Satish Verma, 7 october 2017

In Deep Conversation

Again,
a hunt will start,
incognito.

Uncorfirming
a freak. A zipless encounter
without a knife.

I am not going
to lose a blue peacock.
Light will not come.

Into the dark recess
I had planted
a time bomb

in the womb.
Give me a blight,
if you want.

Yet I am going
to sail, combing
the moon.

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Satish Verma, 6 october 2017

Flickering Dream

It was your
integrity

at the time of ubiquitous pain
of separation, you want to move the home
away from home

coming
to terms with the trauma
your shadow was not following you

playing dead
nuzzling the earth, racing to fill
the void, entering the truthlessness

this world
of violence, of mayhem, of self-betrayal,
the flags are not able to cover the nudity

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Satish Verma, 5 october 2017

Latest Woes

Like a jellyfish,
In raw pain
You descend abruptly,
In abyss of peace.

There was a streak
Of animal in silicone.
The matchmakers will
Rub the sparks.

The cauldron was
Simmering with tension.
Was ready to engage
A chemical warfare.

You are sitting on
A medusoid robot.
A replica of non-god’s
Creation.

Now synchronized contractions
Will start to deliver a new baby.

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Satish Verma, 4 october 2017

Steaming

Surrender your shadow
to light.
Come my trenched thoughts.

An upside down
episode speaks of a missed
path, and of a blue smoke.

Have you entered
the lake to search for a
sunset is rising moon?

The house-trap again
catches you in midstream.
No peace. Eyes refuse to shut.

Bind the stars with a moon.
Let the night be blue-black.
A goddess of arson was coming.

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Paweł Szkołut, 3 october 2017

Lapland

The endless horizon
of wooded hills
immersed in silence
interrupted by the rare
singing of birds

reindeers
coming from the north
between the autumnal shots
and winter hunting

The Sami people
singing their jojk songs
and connecting with the ancestral spirits

the arctic wind
blowing under
the sky of amaranthine colors
at sunset

passing time
measured by growth of moss
on the rocks
and scattered antlers
of reindeers and elks

the perfect proportions
of long summer days
and short days of winter

the unity of coldness
and clean air

at nights
the intensified proximity
of the starlit
Universe

VIII 1995

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Satish Verma, 3 october 2017

The Threshold

During the litany of questions,
I will talk to you,
about the innocence
of flowing river.

Here was your faultline.
You had washed your words in
the dirty stream.
Now, you were complaining about the winds.

I will not ask you
to kill the thrill of hurting
the defence. But
were you ready for a recount?

Black, as a burnt-out bread,
the time; will leave the wounds open.
I will write a poem
you will start screaming.

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Renato N. Mascardo, 2 october 2017

carnage field

carnage field

the hate
paddocked in your
deranged mind you let loose
dead dying maimed lay on the ground
but why//

renato
monday 2 october 2017

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Satish Verma, 2 october 2017

Flowering

To find the
essence of nothingness
you need to play a bluff.
The birthmark will come
without motherhood.

It lacks a commitment of
fatherless progeny. The stigma
arrives later when you meet
the moon at night.
I don't defend the puritan's version.

It was natural. Are we returning
to a thinking tree where parakeets
are nesting? The illegitimacy
of bold argument needs the
blessings of the birch.

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Satish Verma, 1 october 2017

Etching Your Profile

I will take you:
In claustrophobia,
head-to-toe,
fully immersed in death.
*
Where the horizon
meets the asteroid.
I will call, the near
earth, my prayer.
*
A distant touch
of your encounter, takes
a big toll. I have started
talking to moon.

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Satish Verma, 30 september 2017

Altercation

The father and child
Will not talk to
Each other.
There was a dispute.
Who was father?

*

Sometimes I wake up
In a dream, looking up
In your eyes.
Was it dark or moonlight?

*

Why you need to nurse
A pain? We will jump
In a river of inferno,
And drown together!