Satish Verma, 24 november 2023
Birth of dark secrets
would extend in black light.
Travesty of sun.
I am in troubled
mode of mind. The eagle
dives to catch moon.
In water. Butterfly
effect you can see in
distant blue stars.
Satish Verma, 23 november 2023
Shrinking like the
face of moon, dark truth slips
from elite height.
The fear of unborn
poem, tears the blank paper
hiding the words.
Will rebirthing work
in stoned psychotherapy
of conversation?
Satish Verma, 22 november 2023
Don't come near sea,
I ask the moon, braless―
in love galore.
What will you see
in eyes of the burning sun―
rising very sadly?
It was writer's cramp,
coming at shrine of snow
god under dark clouds.
Satish Verma, 20 november 2023
You walk in air
without leaving footprints,
giving me nothing.
In the sound of
dry leaves, I search nothing
in abstention.
Who had molested
the white moon in rains
of the sacred land?
Satish Verma, 19 november 2023
You had arranged
the words to invite me.
Path was not found.
Flesh and the spirit
lived differently. Death laughs
you had it coming.
I would be same
even when you will come
in dark to light lamp.
Satish Verma, 18 november 2023
Thoughts―
were not picking the words.
This was ultimate loss.
How do I stave
off the disaster? You
were taking away my smiles.
What kind it would be
the next quake, when
I was standing at the door.
I have yet to
know myself, searching for
the invisible truth.
Cannot drop the―
pen. The eyes will read
the last sermon.
Satish Verma, 17 november 2023
When huge trees
walk, the rocks
tremble.
This was a sacred
ritual, to get the
tang of stings.
Distressed,
the naked eye
roams in ruins.
Behind the veil,
the moon will heal the
acid burns.
How will you
celebrate the night,
for sylvan setting?
Satish Verma, 15 november 2023
I am done for,
jumping the wall of
signature pain.
I hear you talking
in whispers, to an invisible
god of absence.
A journey breaks
halfway. Were you going
to write off our hand-made tapestry?
O God, you hit
precisely. I want to throw
back your kindness.
Ah, the scars don't
go. Time does not heal
the wounds of earth.
Satish Verma, 14 november 2023
Sundown
body becomes blue.
You were stitching
opals in eyes.
How do I find
you, when you would not
come in twilight?
The flight of a swan
takes a turn to cross
the river of flames.
Would you be a witness?
For the sake of death
don't die, amidst the hymns
of pain in dark shadowing life.
I know, I will
suffer in sunlight, when
the moon squeezes the blood.
Satish Verma, 13 november 2023
Paper wasps tend―
to simulate. What
if death becomes a part
of our life?
I sent the message
over the hills and moon,
when you were gone.
Without pain, were
you ready for the ending
of life, when life was itself
dying daily?
The day lips crack,
little or nothing was left
to say the voiceless hymns.
Your truth, was beautiful.
Was it a real truth?
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