Latest items:
poetry
Satish Verma, 27 april 2022
Escaping The Wait
Perfect domes―
beehived.
An alien sitting in
Mona Lisa? Do you believe in the
pshyche of a beekeeper?
A vision. The future tense
retrieves the past glory of tenseless era.
The mimicry will do its own job.
A freak incident. Earth was
moving. Corned bodies riding on lead.
You must fill up the blanks to―
prepare for lethal descent.
Idolatry. Every cult becomes
a new idol. Hate-filled sermons.
Yestersins will pay
for the mortgage.
Satish Verma, 23 april 2022
Another Assault
Set free the water―
do not harm the spring.
A short poem will write your
theme in air, without asking.
The unbaked bread
will feed the oven.
And the silent prayers
will seal the lips.
The bride of desert―
weeps. No palms, no ariels.
You run over the ruins
to find the tools.
Now breathing stops. A
hammer strikes.
It was the tragedy
of a brainless tumor.
Aneurysm brings the stroke.
Satish Verma, 16 april 2022
Pain Of Shingles
Hiding behind the faces,
you had pushed me to the edge.
Now Himalayas were weeping.
The self-mutilation
starts. Human body and mind
collide like tectonic plates.
There was no rape in
sacred marriage. Do you know the
anxiety and depression are not
only the human traits?
Psychosis. The obscenity
does not leave, and the language
starts dying. You block the
road. Nobody was going to leave
the doomed plains.
Satish Verma, 10 april 2022
India Ink
In everyday life
you pick up a war with a―
moment in truth.
Unleashing a malign―
half gender― to speak
for the sake of a maker.
You were standing on
a fault-line, waiting for the
unhappened to happen.
I have come from a
faraway land to dig up the
legacy of the ruined convulsions of man.
The faith, a religion the
god were all forgotten when
you sit homeless, hungry under the sky.
Satish Verma, 6 april 2022
Somebody Dies
You walk through me
opening the portal of―
unending moment.
A right to die lingers in the eyes.
Not a serenade. I am
tying the knot on the tree.
The wait was becoming too long. I
would read again Hamlet without the prince.
Truth was not happy, when
you brought down the body.
The wind was moving like a panther
stealthily before the kill.
How shall we bite our toes―
now? They have left
a bloody trail on the
weeping grass.
Satish Verma, 5 april 2022
The Dirty Beliefs
More searing―
in fog of love.
You prepare the first draft―
of suicide.
It was not in your
handwriting from the left,
before sending―
the message.
The crash of the drone
before hitting the ground.
I apologize to sun for―
the brilliant fault.
I will never know
what did I give you.
My tulips were ravaged
by the statecraft of the winds.
Satish Verma, 4 april 2022
No Coronation Please
Like toothache.
Would hear the voices
of dark.
No beginning, no end.
I will not conclude.
Like the setting sun in west
dying beautifully―
without moon.
It is a chilling confession.
No offending. Trying to
understand unmoving lips.
In my suffering
there was no faith healing.
I won't ask your hand.
Every syntax, regenerates
the truth of the dirty mind.
Living amidst the
dangers of orthopedic blunders
you cannot walk straight.
The queen has gone insane.
Satish Verma, 3 april 2022
White Shrouds
The lips will speak
without sound.
A tuliped man hangs himself
down, from a tall tree of fame.
You wanted to live in the―
glare of slit throats.
The blood brings the brilliant
glitter of gold.
End of the speech will―
throw up a mascot. The noose was
tightening around the―
rising― glorious sun.
Slavery never ends. You
become victim of your dazzling
peaks, when you stand alone
at unthinkable heights.
The spirit of the tree dies in your eyes.
Satish Verma, 2 april 2022
From When To Where
In deep bottom,
at first light, I
will give you a call.
Because, I was only bones,
muscles worn out in hymns
and the nudes were―
putting on the masks.
You will not deliver―
a denial, nor you will
put forward the Buddhist stance.
Like a curling fern you
want to go in dark shade―
eyes shut.
The circus of stunted men
and lady birds―
will go on unabated.
I swear by fire,
The battered umbilicus will
not bear any gods.
A miraculous escape. I
will not eat your
flesh, hot and red.
We start hitting each other
Scott Clark, 1 april 2022
Benjamin
Lit’l child, were ya ben
O’er the Sun or with yar kin.
O’ May’e with yar friends jamin.
Latest comments:
30 june 2025
violetta
Moja siostra jest teraz na Korfu :) piękny wiersz:)
30 june 2025
Niezmiernie cieszę się:)
30 june 2025
Tak i są przeróżne:)
30 june 2025
ajw
Uwielbiam tę ulotność chwili..
29 june 2025
Jaga
Strach na postrach, a dlaczego?/ wróbel na pszenicy
29 june 2025
sam53
na jednym drzewie bardzo słodkie, a te późniejsze
29 june 2025
Podziękowanie to mało, ale dziękuję :)))
29 june 2025
Wokół kręgu :)
29 june 2025
Słoneczniki już kwitną :)
29 june 2025
A czereśnie wyjątkowo słodkie tego lata.
29 june 2025
Przepiękny wiersz, miło się czyta Twoje romantyzmy.
29 june 2025
Taka upór jest w wierszu:)
30 june 2025
wiesiek
29 june 2025
wiesiek
27 june 2025
Jaga
26 june 2025
Atanazy Pernat
26 june 2025
Atanazy Pernat
23 june 2025
ajw
21 june 2025
Jaga
21 june 2025
wiesiek
18 june 2025
Jaga
16 june 2025
wiesiek