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poetry

Satish Verma, 4 march 2023

Sorting Again

Love blooms in hush,
like cranberry. It heals soul,
half moon, half stings.

Gives you wisdom
to singe without flames
in month October.

Woe was done for,
when the snow comes in
to cover the scars.

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Satish Verma, 3 march 2023

At dusk, I will smear
your lips to color the moons.
Acts like Midas touch.

The dunes tend to
shift from the shivering hands,
when the knuckles bend.

The scope expands.
You will walk on periphery.
I will tow the line.

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Renato N. Mascardo, 2 march 2023

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Satish Verma, 1 march 2023

Ruminating

The fire thoughts rise,
when the stinging stubble burns
on your green face.

It doesn't smell, the
forked tongue. Taste was
sweet on the skin.

A crimson twilight
narrates the glory of sun,
inviting the moon.

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Satish Verma, 27 february 2023

Under The Bodhi Tree

Would you remove
your mask once, and come to
me as you are?

Don't throw the pebbles
to skin my pain. The wound bleeds,
to quote the past.

I ask myself to
be quiet in this moon time.
Saint was turning red.

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Satish Verma, 26 february 2023

What You Didn't Say

When Rilke stops
whispering, I search
the cut flowers of gladioluses.

You don't speak
at all, blinking your eyes
anxiously. There was no
spate of quivering lips.

The exodus of long
breaths had the lethality.
Words come and go like,
a bunch of bees.

My problem was,
how to meet my beautiful
end.

The culture, the
wisdom would wait for
the angels.

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Satish Verma, 25 february 2023

A Paroxysm

Something was left behind.

I was collecting all the
dried roses for the prison of
eyes. I ask myself― what was that.

Something was left behind.

A black rose? Near the
smoked candles of poems? A
tiger lily, still had the blood spots?
Why do I forget the precious things?

Something was left behind.

I wait for the butterfly,
to wake, which had breathed
last between the tender
moments. Why do I want?

Something was to be left behind!

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Satish Verma, 24 february 2023

Water's Face

Space versus time.
You blend in my singularily
I will meet my other self
in the black hole.

Counting my heartbeats
I will cleave to you, but I find
that only my shadow―
walks with me.

With minimal touch of
love. I discover the asset of
stupidity. Like feeble thoughts would
swap for stinging tentacles.

A bizarre equation appears.
The fearsome becomes a jelly
fish. I am trying to give
a name to quarks.

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Satish Verma, 22 february 2023

Strange Pictures

Don't read;
feel the words. They weep
in full moon.

The hills were
moving. Trees wouldn't
wear the dresses.

I was not ready
for autumn. Can you come
back after the death
of hope?

The stalkers
stand in queue
to harness the dark energy.

The frills were
beautiful. Face was missing.

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Satish Verma, 21 february 2023

Don't Kill The Moonlight

Dying inch by inch
to catch you between the poems
before night ends.

Life changes words
without sounds and vowels.
You will not find truth.

Create a wound
for me to print image
of fall from honeycomb.

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Latest items:

poetry

Sorting Again

Not Any Acrimony

OF SATELLITES, TRAVELS, & FRIENDS

Ruminating

Under The Bodhi Tree

What You Didn't Say

A Paroxysm

Water's Face

Strange Pictures

Don't Kill The Moonlight

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