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poetry
Satish Verma, 9 june 2016
Landscape
Thinking was seeing through the time,
was a lone journey from naïve
understanding. Return was difficult,
back to bricks and forlorn shores.
How many beginnings had failed;
the doors locked, cobwebs, dust, smoke,
crowded with dangling hopes. Flywheels
broken. DNA twisted, life – in – heaps.
The purpose, warts and all, salvation,
as long as footnotes guided between
restless nights. Melancholy of space in
the bed. Silence of portraits.
A peacock explodes, defining the boundary,
then a chorus of approval. An owl hoots.
The candle kisses the creases of dark.
Moon swells.
Satish Verma, 8 june 2016
Paranoia
Multiple tongues followed
some strangers to see the
trafficking of images between space
and promises. Somewhere
adjectives were being cheated.
A tumor was growing in brain
locked, enhancing, malignant:
condemned destiny. Implicity of incest
in same gene pool. Where
the evolution has stopped?
A missile has intercepted and smashed
the moon into ten thousand
sins. Palpable wreckage.
We were shoved into dustbin
A pile of starving skulls.
Clotted stone blood. Mountains
were wounded. My mentor
had a paranoia. Delusion
Of falling snow
from burning sky.
Satish Verma, 7 june 2016
Brooding Silently
Entire age was spent in search
of self ultimate and he was still
unable to redeem a sad tree.
The silent unglorious drop. Florets falling
one by one like dreams.
White spread. Orange opus. Good-
bye crescent. Blue sky shying away.
A cuckoo on mango grove starts
a melodious croon. Sweet allegation
of betrayal, but for what gain?
Pain bounces back in the eyes of
a sparrow. Cannot find a window to
enter. Concrete walls. Closed doors.
Ad infinitum will move the traffic.
Where to stop? And when to fly?
Qualities were crashing down. Faint
bruises on face. Sticking plaster on
eyes. So many already gone to galaxy.
Sitting on a garbage dump.
He was brooding silently.
Satish Verma, 6 june 2016
Super Terrain
The metastatic figure.
He was seeking truth without thought,
being in and out, he was sleepwalking in
dream. I am the absolute, he said. Skeletons
are popping up everywhere. Poor beasts.
And there was the tired flame who
burned all night in vain.
The body was aching after the discovery
of a super terrain. Another earth? or
a conventional aberration? The planet
was heaving with hot clouds. Reason
for a substitute. Right perception of
life was difficult. Everybody was running
in opposite direction for a message.
He dives to pull up the corpse of liberty
locked deep in water. A noble idea to
free the corrupt world from the bondage
of decaying foundations. Half-truths and
half-lies must live together for the human
survival. Quest of the self ultimately
begs for forgiveness.
Satish Verma, 5 june 2016
Eclampsia
A catheter leaks,
quality of hearing suffers.
A tethered song sears on blue flames.
The actual, displaces the pain
truth becomes non-pigmented.
In space you move noisily
waking the birds.
Tomorrow will come with writhing cries-
bounties of past.
Not myself, himself, yourself.
The new experiments in womb
remained fruitless.
A malformed, distorted progeny was born
on payments without glory.
Masses were swelling without self knowing.
Thinker was silent. Philosopher was dumb.
Architect had the thumbs amputated.
A mausoleum of love remained unbuilt.
Sky was overcast, hid the sun.
The earth inherited the broken glass.
Joe Breunig, 5 june 2016
Poem: Raised in Glory
It’s important to remember that Death,
has been conquered by Christ’s victory;
though our mortal flesh is perishable,
our spirits will rise and we will see
Him in His exalted radiance, as The Son.
Like Him, we too will be raised in glory;
we will be completely reconciled unto God,
with Christ having no sense of animosity
towards us, regarding His experiences
as our propitiation on Calvary’s Cross.
After all, He submitted to The Father’s
plan, for redeeming the World’s lost.
Out of dust, the first Adam was raised;
from Heaven, came last Adam: The Christ;
the first brought upon us sin and Death,
while the latter… bestowed eternal Life.
Author notes
Inspired by:
1 Cor 15:42-54
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.
Satish Verma, 4 june 2016
Nostalgia
What it was? Unthinkable:
he had become inaudible
to himself.
Intramurality in defiance?
or falling from perfectibility?
The terrible stench;
and toxic fumes rising from decaying passions.
The flesh middle age, blocked arteries
fear of schizophrenia?
Scion of royalty clapping for wheels,
shine and color
hanging by a thread of hate.
This was life without a hero.
Pacers-by caring for posters only
Whisking the sounds away.
Many in the one
nostalgia of shapes.
Satish Verma, 3 june 2016
Aconite
Polarity hits you at face, Thoughts. Move
inversely. The deed, words, slogans
divide the eternity of time. No hygienic
patience. Persons coming from channels only.
The thing. Image in hundred mirrors.
Varieties of fakes and counterfeits. Foeticide.
Paedophile. Necrophilia. Peddling pink flesh.
It is. Peels of skin left on roads. Your shape,
my contours, his art. I am passing through
a tunnel. Open-and-shut. No end. No beginning
Two nothings.
Will keep on moving. Roaches are scuttling
like rats with wings. Their country. We are
outsiders. Strangers. Not to reveal the names,
No landmarks on walls, intersections, doors.
No vigilance, No corporatized pain. No
bleeding wounds.
Impatience. Nobody opens the eyes.
Long sleep. I pray, no waking up.
Let the global warming end. Let the
terror die of its own Aconite.
Satish Verma, 2 june 2016
The Quest
The space was widening. Opacity was
Being. Antimatter in. You were scared.
Why this disintegration? Unthinkable hunger,
Incompleteness. Antithesis of universality. My
smallness. His greatness. The heat sucks the
blooms. Celestial dance of the destroyer begins.
The body makes I. Soul is me. The death
was climbing up the stairs. Hiding
in attic you were singing, refusing to see
the visitor, Dismissal of blast. Was a global
failure. How many bodies you are going to
count? Not enough graves. Mass burial?
or descent in tower of silence?
The sludge. Delta is disappearing. Nystagmus.
No land to build a home. Withdrawal. Poachers
are killing the tigers. Claws for power, killer’s
strength. A tall tree stands on ridge, meditating.
Peacocks are watching. Will be their turn
now? Eyes on the plumage. For clarity,
vision and wisdom.
B.Z. Niditch, 1 june 2016
BY THE HOTEL ELEVATOR
By the hotel elevator in Paris
on an impalpable holiday
is the loneliest scene
as sleep walking suit cased
hearing the AM
speaking of raging war
ethnic cleansing
final solutions
yet tranquilized survivors
by half -open faced sagas
of oblivious tourists
sandwiched between
bar and lobby
provide and divide space
to these seasoned travelers
reaching for teapots
and glasses of white wine
doled out with napkins
under doubled chins
from slow kitchen helpers
because it is always
a long trip and cold
from another's hands
looking up to the balcony
in the latest fashion show
losing yourself in mirrors
of soft lights moving you
away from Mozart's muzak
stumbling up the steps
to your inner sanctum
to celebrate sounds
of your lost appearance
by the vacuum
at sauntering in lost thoughts
by habitable towels
undressed by the sink
your mind not intact
or awakened by the rush
of blinded window last light
from your secret location
in a glance's view
of new information
as yet unknown saga
yet may be true
from any vetted apology
yet unspoken to atone
in any regretted vocation
or out of the blue pardon
among the wood's rock garden
there is a moonstone,
as in Stravinsky's"Firebird"
many notes of elocution's force
before a dancer's outside call
in full curtained voice
by the concert hall
with blinding secret wonder
a ballerina emerges in a theater
among nature's belladonna
on steps of connections,
out of rain and thunder
in a poetic word's
language's ballet
by answers and questions
to the critics' directions
at night and every day.
Latest comments:
9 january 2026
ALEKSANDRA
"zamiękki ja na ten czas " to rdzeń,
9 january 2026
Weronika
Na pocieszenie dodam, że ta cela nie ma klamek.
9 january 2026
Jaga
"Wespół , w zespół" :))
9 january 2026
Wzajemnie :)
9 january 2026
"A wariatka jeszcze tańczy" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3VqOIhqUklI
8 january 2026
ais
Kiedyś ludzie bali się dziwaków a później
8 january 2026
sam53
ambitne, ale we dwoje... czemu nie!
8 january 2026
coraz więcej dziwaków... niebawem ci zwyczajni
6 january 2026
smokjerzy
pytek...;)
6 january 2026
A kto skleja te sreberka...?
6 january 2026
może dlatego że lubię wiosnę... ale taką
5 january 2026
Im bardziej na dworze zimno, tym bujniejszy pachnie
9 january 2026
wiesiek
9 january 2026
Jaga
8 january 2026
wiesiek
7 january 2026
wiesiek
6 january 2026
wiesiek
5 january 2026
wiesiek
4 january 2026
Jaga
4 january 2026
wiesiek
3 january 2026
wiesiek
2 january 2026
wiesiek