Satish Verma, 5 november 2022
The footman was
unseen. I assume, the
new democracy comes
into being.
A steady stream
of thoughts, spread wordlessly.
You feel only the plodding.
The river knows
the integrity of banks. They
won't cave in dry spell.
The rainbow digs in.
There were no arrows
to shoot down the moon.
Time will teach you.
You can't hold on
the realization alone. It
was late to pull back the strings.
Trying to become you.
Nonplussed, still wanting
me to hold on.
Satish Verma, 4 november 2022
When the hurting
fails to speak, tribalism wins,
without a shine.
When I hold your
hand, you wanted to know
the ethics of our sins.
Then you bend in dream
like the circinate frond
or maidenhair, to kiss
my bleeding toes.
For you someone
would be falling apart. Take care
of him to the death of night.
The body will meet
the dust one day, to understand
life and come back to
unload the virtues.
Not you, not me
we all are superficial.
Satish Verma, 3 november 2022
Do not punish yourself
devastatingly;
as long as I am not
turned into stone.
The display must
not be invoked. Go gingerly
in the lake of two wills.
Grief should not be
grey. In wilderness you
will find the support
of thick-lipped ghosts.
Pithy muscles
back the yellow rocks enigma.
Moon always comes to sleep
in the arms of blue sky.
Not the pathfinder,
I would become your path.
Satish Verma, 1 november 2022
Will you maintain
fidelity in a time of war,
when the stars were burning?
Extravagantly, I paint
the moon blue
on your pale face.
Unspeakable was
the terror. You never had
the nightmare to
frighten the sculptor.
The race will never
end. Nobody wants to
be defeated by a savior
in the province of clovers.
Who would forget the black rock,
from where we
jumped onto the flames?
Satish Verma, 31 october 2022
Playing the double life,
coming apart at―
the seems.
I was thinking aloud the death of a
supernova, and here
an araucaria burns out.
Hands unknown,
someone mixes the cards
of your fortuity, and you
become very rich.
You couldn't carry
your happiness and crashed
on stairs, like embedded
in quicksand.
I regard this a
slaughter in broad daylight.
Sun was pierced by a
blistering eye.
Satish Verma, 30 october 2022
The yellow jasmines
are dead. My ache returns.
My language does't
speak. My agony will describe
the authentic death.
It is a long prose.
One eye sticks out from
the socket to read clearly.
The see-through veil
leaks the story, which can't
be taken to the beautiful
end.
First you grill the
moon, then ask for the
slanted answer. Love takes
off the makeup.
How long the poems
will cry?
Satish Verma, 29 october 2022
I always walk
a thinking moon. One day
I will ask him how to release
the destiny encased
in amber of your eyes.
One day you should
paint me blue, when the
sun sets on the lake for
a final dip.
My grey skin
melts in your hands to
interpret the viscosity of
trembling heart.
Don't give any
testimony against the unseen
murder of a golden deer
drinking water from
your cupped hands.
Satish Verma, 27 october 2022
I refuse to underrate
the fog, its arithmetic,
bleaching the dark
words in twilight.
Indelible memory.
You don't behave yourself
writing furiously the names
of god in air.
Song was tongueless.
You could hear the nuances
of cords in rhythm.
Without listening you go
into bliss.
The blue rocks. Black birds
come in groups to commit
shared suicide on the
burning earth.
Satish Verma, 26 october 2022
Don't give words to
thoughts. Terror begins.
Your painful past turns to future,
of live skeletons.
What life will give to me,
when I am getting
ready for long journey?
Collecting peacock
blue to write your name
on the trunks.
Moon nods,
I ask for a favour to
make me sleep in moonless night.
The silence speaks
in humility. Nothing was left
to have a meaning.
From the temple deity
disappears.
Satish Verma, 25 october 2022
Not afraid of any
wrath, I was quiet at the
end of beginning to hold on.
Won't squeeze,
if you bring me to flames
to track the grace of
a dying sun.
Inappropriate―
a queer look of the moon, when
the eyes were dead and
lips were moving.
Venus explodes
in the spirit of eternal star.
There was no philosophy of
daring fire. It was very cool.
The queen cobra
raises its hood to strike
the milky way for
raising the lust.
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