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poetry

Senograsta, 11 february 2023

Pijawki i obrazy

Jak piękna pani wysyła mi wypuszcza obrazy by żyły poza nią
tak ja wypuszczam pijawki z moją krwią do rzeki
Krew dojdzie do Pradżapatiego za horyzontem
a jak do zakola tajemnic to tam będę trwał w zanikaniu Marzanny
Czego szuka życie i istota? Dobrej śmierci Dla ryby i pijawki
Dobra śmierć to życie
Czy dla śniegu stopnieć jest bólem
Czy będziemy go trzymywać sztucznie przy życiu
Czy niezliczone robaki co tworzą mnie
będą mnie tworzyć poza granice mego trwania?
To ostatnie życie trupa to też tylko rozpad i rozłączanie
Chcą zginąć w szczękach We mgle i oddaleniu
bo taki ich los i przeznaczenie
Moje ciało też chce się rozpadać gubić ślady a potem rozpaść
I to jest wypłynięcie krwi z wierszem I to jest życie
Bo teraz proszę piękną o obrazy a może byłem już o nie proszonym
Bo mamy czas..

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Satish Verma, 11 february 2023

I Am Not One

This saga follows
the stargazing of one
buried ethos.

Where the words stop
to transcreate the ruins of
hymnic heritage.

You cannot change
the world. World will change you
at the end of gaze.

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Satish Verma, 10 february 2023

Honor On Sale

Coming of age
in dark waters of thoughts―
to swipe the moon.

Half-bread was
not sufficient for the earth.
We need some sky.

Words don't come
easy, from the scythe, to draw
a line on face.

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steve, 9 february 2023

Time Won't Stop

You say that I don't give, the kind of love you need...
I say to have a forest, you first must plant a seed,
It isn't that there isn't love, it's not like I don't care...
It's just the things that matter most, are things that we don't share,
I don't need to tell you, again the way I feel...
For if you cannot hear me, these wounds will never heal,
There's not a day that passes, that your not in my heart...
And not a day that passes, that we don't tear apart,
I've heard it's just a fine line, between what's love and hate...
But the clock for us is ticking, and "time won't stop" to wait,
I wonder if things were different how happy we could be...
If we break the chains of anger, and set our spirits free,
As long as we hold to pain, these chains will hold us down...
And we'll look back at what was lost and love we never found,
I don't know if you hear me, or if were too far gone...
But I'm out here on this ledge alone, for us I'm holding on.

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Satish Verma, 9 february 2023

Half-Blues

Don't bury my pain
in your sad blinking eyes.
It won't fill the void.

Who was evolved
from a cruel beast into
a human being?

Some pieces of
divinity survive in the
bright passion flowers.

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Satish Verma, 8 february 2023

Earthly Claims

The lunacy of
touching you, to plug a―
hole, in your innocence.

I wanted to explore
the horizon in your eyes,
where sun meets moon,
in graveyard of sins
and virtues.

Before you had become
my shadow, I used to smell
a distant scent coming
from a slithering
wet body.

I fumble for the words
for mercy of pain. My desert
was once a sea.

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Satish Verma, 7 february 2023

A Beautiful Song

To begin again,
the travesty of understanding
life.

A mole, a warton
the face of fractured psyche,
I will never know you.

Generations bleed,
to feed the corpse flower―
of fraternity. I go
insane.

Going beyond the
touch of your life, I begin
to shred my forbidden
sin.

You know what
was classic love, to burn
like a moth on flame.

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Satish Verma, 6 february 2023

Hope In Undoing

Stay till end of
my poem, for
dying sun.

Howling winds searched
my body, my soul
when I stood alone.

The blue scorpion knows
its religion. That was predation.
Landfall for hungry.

If the blood leaks,
the victim sings for moksha.
Milking starts.

The golden leaves
are peeled off from the moon.
No night was safe.

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Satish Verma, 5 february 2023

Living With Grace

Didn't agree to
sell the dream, for afterlife.
There was dread of
crossing the graves.

Moon intends to
come one step closer, to
find your candor. The innards
wouldn't take off the veil.

There was no iconic
shadow. Hope was fading.
Time to confront the unexpected
assault. Light enters from a crack.

What could be a
second coming of realization
on week legs, in twilight
of disturbing truths?

I am holding the mirror
at a distance.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 1 | detail

Satish Verma, 4 february 2023

Ancient Landscape

Weeping asokas were talking.
Only THE Plato will tell
the truth about republic.

I was shaken like
dew drops on grass in whirlwind.
No end of unending.

Moon goes on rampage.
When will you meet me in charisma
of midnight September?

Mankind will not
change. The stones roll down
to remain afloat in river.

Take off your hand
from my shoulder. You have
to go for a long journey
without me.

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10 - 30 - 100

Latest items:

poetry

Pijawki i obrazy

I Am Not One

Honor On Sale

Time Won't Stop

Half-Blues

Earthly Claims

A Beautiful Song

Hope In Undoing

Living With Grace

Ancient Landscape

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