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poetry

Satish Verma, 29 april 2024

Amnesia

You were not sin.
Pain interrupted to trigger
an ancient love.

Marigolds were in
bloom. Copper― brown. Your body
does not belong to you.

Paper dreams fly
to catch the moon in dark.
Time to burn wings.

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Satish Verma, 28 april 2024

Compromised

Dying red leaves were
ready for a blitzkrieg. The spectre
of blood river returns suddenly.

The consistent failure
brings the dewy tears. Tell me--was it
writing on the threadbare body of pain.

Ah a dust song comes
from a comet's tail. A thunderstorm
has a hole. It is the eye of the grim reaper.

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Satish Verma, 27 april 2024

By Kisses

You can see whole
world in my mouth. I start
knitting a blood scarf.

To raise gender,
thebeestings will play a role.
The skin prints history.

You become your
own teacher to read the hymns
engraved on leaves.

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Satish Verma, 26 april 2024

The Entity

I take a lesson
from you O god, before
I write the end.

Who will rise from
the dust of the ruins after
the volcanic blast?

A celebration was
stalled when you had landed
on the dark moon.

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Satish Verma, 25 april 2024

Quartz

Light digs up the hope.
You appear like pure flint.
Sorrow will tell truth.

Weep weep my sun.
Black hole will swallow you.
No need to drink hemlock.

The blank paper has
hidden markings. God wants
to become mortal.

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Satish Verma, 24 april 2024

The End Starts

The answers look
at questions, like sparrows
did not find home.

Where wouldgo, the
butterfly poems, to color
the barren thoughts?

You glide like river
of blood in the eyes of
wounded moon.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Adam Pietras (Barry Kant), 23 april 2024

Three poems

---Living inside a Master-Piece

Nothing to say living inside a Master-Piece.
As I've been younger - I searched for existential police.

All is left to overlook and to smile
Some challenge zen for a while.

Angelic women believe in something - that's so far from my mind
Although I've become an indifferent kind.

For me? Precisely everything - can be so very nice
As I get my whiskey with ice.

I don't mean there is something too bad
It just looks as I am - of rather ironic clad.

---Regret

There is a little bit of hate in my wound.
Nobody knows how those muddy things

Come inside;

A spark from far away dives into the World
Though it's hard to love one's own dirt.

---With no Craft

Empty sadness as I laid
Though someone - needed me to stay;
And I used to comtemplate this subject:
With no Craft - I found myself an object.

So deeply pleased - as the Other enjoyed my fruits
So I stood up and worn my boots -
Let's take a mile or seven
Follow me - we'll go to Heaven...

number of comments: 7 | rating: 3 | detail

Satish Verma, 22 april 2024

Echoes Travel

Can you foretell of the
death-like the hound― after
the loss of game?

Past my last poems I
will meet you one day
to settle the debts.

I was incomplete
in my wholeness. I will dissect
the words for bleeds.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

sam53, 21 april 2024

od wewnątrz

czasami błąkam się po naszych pustych nocach
szukam ciebie między słowami pośród oddechów

wyobraźnią zaginam przestrzeń
w której spotykają się nasze usta oczy nosy

pozwalamy sobie na bliskość jak cieniom w zakamarkach piwnic
albo światłom które mnożą się z miłości

nie upominamy się o pocałunki w każdym wierszu
wystarczy że jesteśmy dla siebie

number of comments: 0 | rating: 2 | detail

Satish Verma, 21 april 2024

Picking Relics

You didn't want to
age, rediscovering,
pain of birth, to live.

To remain atheist
was better than many gods. You
belong to yourself.

Juxtaposed with
blank walls, a bohemian
draws image of sin.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

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Latest items:

poetry

Amnesia

Compromised

By Kisses

The Entity

Quartz

The End Starts

Three poems

Echoes Travel

od wewnątrz

Picking Relics

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