13 october 2019
Did Not We Cry?
Ash and smoke.
I am fever, not becoming
any sound.
Like a lichen, a mycorrhiza
on damp soil,
unfound by light.
Thriving in airless
dark. Will not see the cool―
moon of summer night.
There was no key
to find the invisible.
A random poem will see.
Your painted body
in blue scars, still
remembers the fallen roof.
8 may 2024
Touching EverywhereSatish Verma
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0708wiesiek
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Taking RevengeSatish Verma
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Poetic JusticeSatish Verma
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Izerska rzekakalik
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Suffering Was RightSatish Verma
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0305wiesiek
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I Was LostSatish Verma
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DogmaticallySatish Verma
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Justice PureSatish Verma