poetry

poetry
Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 12 february 2024

Deceiving Self

Learning the art
of dying, cheating the ghosts,
talking to moon children.

Will you believe in
so much of death? An
octopus darting on sands?

In self-awareness
you look at the vast water.
The lake will accept you.

Aimlessly you want
to drift. A sick feeling takes
revenge and turns you into stone.

Somebody smiles.
Flickers like a candle,
before shutting down the beats.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 11 february 2024

I Go Outside Me

Supernova of love.
The black light. Was it a biographical
trauma to pay the respect way too far?

Beyond the truth, was
I there? I need not hunt the
gods to show me the human tragedy.

Is it the necessity to
follow the eternal faults? Wouldn't
become a subject to understand life.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 10 february 2024

Absolute Being

Transparency.
Where were you in dark,
in my intense moments?

A lonely spirit will
try to meet you
in blue moon.

Wading in shallow
waters, you speak slowly
to defend depth of pain.

The absolute
becomes nude. There was
no limit to draw the blood.

Uncensored, I
set up the stage for a
guillotine to punish sun.

It was a bright
sun day. The bells
will not ring.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 9 february 2024

Silver Moon

What an artifice. The
invisible becomes visible. I am not
what you are. That was Arte Povera?

When violence erupts
you won't stand like praying mantis,
waiting for a self portrait in an innocent pause?

As like Cleopatra, you
suspend in air like a hummingbird
asking, what would be the next terror without blood?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 7 february 2024

Believing In Myths

Wanted to dip my
pen in light and draw
your face in golden lines
on dark clouds.

The time announces the
arrival of spirit. You land
like butterfly, on the
lips of voila for seconds
and fly away.

But you did not come
to say goodbye.

The bell tolls for
no one. Nobody dies today
to celebrate the departure
of death― gracefully.

I lived dangerously.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 6 february 2024

Where Do The Sprits Go?

Disappointed.
I look at my hands to
read your destiny.

I fall to kiss the
moon dust. You were
my desire in sleep.

The spirit hovers
like the golden eagle
to rest the talons.

I stop the game.
Some cards had remained
undealt. I win, I lose.

You were not the
angel. You were not the mortal.
Where do I put my relief?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 5 february 2024

I Was Unknown

Between ethics and
ethos, your truth is very sad. The
pierced rose bouquet bleeds.

Like fawns in a blood
room. I don't know how to treat
life, when you are impersonal.

The art of annihilation
is known to everyone. Naked as blue
whale. The sea horse always stands.


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steve

steve, 4 february 2024

"One May Never Find"

You don't have to tell me, what you think I want to hear...
And you don't have to get that close, if I'm something that you fear,
I'm not trying to burden you, to be someone your not...
And I won't ask of you, to do something you cannot,
But I'm not going to hide, the way I feel for you...
Or pretend that I don't hurt, when you know damn well I do,
I thought I found a friend in you, and maybe something more...
Someone whom for many years, I've been searching for,
I'm sorry for the love I feel, in my heart for you...
But I can't pretend it isn't real, if I wanted too,
I never ment for you to run, or feel the need to hide...
I'm sorry I came on so strong, because all the years I cried,
Love is so elusive, that one may never find...
As we hold on to the pain, it can render your heart blind.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 4 february 2024

Searching Peace

Unravished the
black moon was down
but not out.

I am being watched.
How the poem
prints itself on heart.

Curled up with
flower thoughts, staring
aimlessly in black void.

Wanted a brutally
honest truth, moon struck
but ready to give blond.

Who was desireless
being a saint. Paradox
always wins.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 3 february 2024

Holiest Dilemma

Somedays with
human touch, I will talk
to white roses with
blood spots.

This was inner beauty.
The ferns start walking to
cover the wounds of earth.

A sea horse stands
erect in sea to salute
the warship.

Where we are going?

When you don't leave
your thumb print, the song
of nightingale is lost.

How do you want
to die in the hands of
deaf and dumb god?


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