poetry

poetry
steve

steve, 26 november 2023

"My Wildest Dreams"

I already had all the treasure, as rich as my wildest dreams...
But my heart wasn't paying attention, and now I've lost everything,
My world is crashing around me, just tell me it's a bad dream...
My life has started unwinding, and nothing is as it seems,
For the one who's holding my heart, is no longer by my side...
How could I take for granted, that her love would never die,
How could I have left her alone, all those lonely nights?
Making money and power my mistress, the only thing in my sights,
How could I not see before me, the rich"s I already had...
A loving wife who adored me, and kids who looked up to there dad,
The world I knew is now crumbling, I can't stop it from falling apart...
I was too blind to see when I had you, and that has torn me apart,
I hope that you can forgive me, nothing else matters to me...
What will I do if I loose you, because of what I couldn't see.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 26 november 2023

Drifting

Killing field
was still red!

What you were
searching in moonlight?

A small poem
cannot provide balm
for troubled mind.

Moon will come
every night to find
his paramour.

Words keep on
changing the sounds.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 25 november 2023

Freezing Scream

It was a perfect
cover.
I ask you to let me go,
and stop praying for me.

The unspelled secrets
of moon, will not bother
you now. They start pain
from thoughts to thoughts.

Like a china rose
in exile, you hang out
in solitude. Not dust,
but water will melt us both.

In aloneness, I will
find you on red stones―
surrounded by wolves of
memory and freezing dawn.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 24 november 2023

Awake, Arise

Birth of dark secrets
would extend in black light.
Travesty of sun.

I am in troubled
mode of mind. The eagle
dives to catch moon.

In water. Butterfly
effect you can see in
distant blue stars.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 23 november 2023

Hundred Stories

Shrinking like the
face of moon, dark truth slips
from elite height.

The fear of unborn
poem, tears the blank paper
hiding the words.

Will rebirthing work
in stoned psychotherapy
of conversation?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 22 november 2023

A Summer's Stroke

Don't come near sea,
I ask the moon, braless―
in love galore.

What will you see
in eyes of the burning sun―
rising very sadly?

It was writer's cramp,
coming at shrine of snow
god under dark clouds.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 20 november 2023

Asking Myself

You walk in air
without leaving footprints,
giving me nothing.

In the sound of
dry leaves, I search nothing
in abstention.

Who had molested
the white moon in rains
of the sacred land?


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steve

steve, 19 november 2023

"I Can't Hold On"

You just don't understand, how much it hurts to be...
In the presence of my dream, that wants no part of me,
I can't take this anymore, I'm finally at my end...
You won't reach out to catch me, as I continue to descend,
I have to learn to say goodbye, and you must let me go...
You have no love inside for me, of this you've let me know,
If only things were different, if you cared enough for me...
You wouldn't let me say goodbye, and I wouldn't want to leave,
But "I can't hold on" to nothing, that's a place I've been...
I've hurt so long and cried so much, I can't go there again,
I'm sorry it has to be like this, and that I take this stand...
I never ment to fall in love, it's not what I had planned,
But I know that you don't love me, and probably never will...
And I don't want to hate you, for something you don't feel.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 19 november 2023

In My Orbit

You had arranged
the words to invite me.
Path was not found.

Flesh and the spirit
lived differently. Death laughs
you had it coming.

I would be same
even when you will come
in dark to light lamp.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 18 november 2023

For Good And Evil

Thoughts―
were not picking the words.
This was ultimate loss.

How do I stave
off the disaster? You
were taking away my smiles.

What kind it would be
the next quake, when
I was standing at the door.

I have yet to
know myself, searching for
the invisible truth.

Cannot drop the―
pen. The eyes will read
the last sermon.


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