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Satish Verma, 6 september 2020
This Universe
The spirit was not there
under the skin-
in grey domain.
I will not seek any revenge on self.
The defeat was my solo passage.
I am still searching
myself in the crowd.
More than enough, I had my share of hurts.
Talking of the innocence
of a womb, when you were not
born. The steel in your hair
and empathy in your tongue.
A wandering sage will
not love the fall of night.
You see better in twilight. The
shadows give an illusion of angels.
Satish Verma, 7 september 2020
Parting The Ways
Like wounded tiger,
going for last innings.
Like Orpheus listening
to water, without looking back.
Will not entrance you
any more, under the moonscape,
getting light from
the nightingale.
Finding the passage of
sunrise, I will wait for you
to come last time-
for a goodbye.
Trembling like aspen
leaf, to steal your aura
in moonless night, when Milky Way
will spread the diamonds.
Satish Verma, 8 september 2020
The Reckoning
It was revenge on you
by unknown.
You were sentenced to live before
the ashes arrive from thumb to thumb.
The onset of grief
was caliberated. I would
not live with a mad weaver
who will not heal the moral bleeds.
A line delimits the dots.
The dance will not begin tonight,
of democracy. The sparrows
were frightened. There was blood on the road.
You want to go into a long sleep.
The moon had an excuse to rise late.
The seeds will observe the silence,
before they come out of the asphalt.
Satish Verma, 9 september 2020
Falling Debris
Purity of thoughts,
must limit the knowledge-
collective withdrawal from
the valley of words.
Each life you had changed
the bed, to meet the god, in different attires.
Hanged from the roof
to understand the pangs of poverty.
The unborn century will wait
for the collapse of identity.
Man has gone too far carrying
the burden of acoustics.
Satish Verma, 11 september 2020
Violent Flaws
You call an all night truce
of all stripes in moonlight.
Only milk will flow in dark.
*
The violets had a secret to tell.
Tonight the moon will
appear red after meditation.
*
A single parent, gay, has
come to stay in line
to accept his godless defeat.
Satish Verma, 12 september 2020
The King Vultures Are Coming
The causal effect
was the kiss of the blind spot.
I wake up every morning
smelling blood.
The space animates you,
leaving the truth outside.
An unwritten message was lost
in the watering eyes.
The aquaduct dries up. You
get the cramps of city,
after the memes of swollen eyes.
Do not open the umbrella,
sun was hiding.
Your brain becomes wired.
Someone slaps a sticker on your lips.
You cannot cry. A muffled scream,
shatters the windows of the capitol.
Satish Verma, 13 september 2020
What You Won't Say
Don't spell the deportation.
Mind seems split-
with a maddening feel.
Do you see what I see-
the invisible lines on
my hand, piercing your heart?
Do you hear, what I
hear- the Hum, which has
made you go crazy?
Dying to unspeak, you
hide between the leaves.The
borrowers come like Crab fish,
ugly and demanding.River
bed was drying up.
Black sticks, things not
required- get piling up.In
wheelchair, you push
a crying doll.
Satish Verma, 14 september 2020
I Will Not Be Back
One small step, in dark.
A silver of fear
slaps you.
You move around
to confront the past.
It was the partition of night.
Cobra white, when
eyes would not listen.
You drugged the stone
on stone,
hiss on hiss,
hair on hair.
I did not touch you
like burning coal.
My waterfalls
on red salt, bring the
largest tears of moon glittering
eerie wet.
Satish Verma, 15 september 2020
How Dazed?
Eons ago, it snapped.
You don't fit into the mold.
Like onion peels, I am trying
to open myself
holding the secrets.
Flawless,
you alway had to invoke
the inner god and-
forgive yourself.
With the same
left foot, always leading you
to truth. That was not now.
Your belief was going up in flames.
Who was sleeping
in your bed, nude, like the
moonbeam, when I was not there
to undemand, the eternal sleep?
Satish Verma, 16 september 2020
Taking Sides
Courting the dark words
picking up from beautiful life,
I weave the tapestry-
in circle of silence.
The liberty of blood
had become obsolete.
You wanted one kill, one voice,
one faith.
The acid test shoots down
the black roses.What
about the mass graves as a
signature of victory?
You cannot stop
the bloodbath.As if a swarm
of big bees was ready
to hound you.
Closing the last window
I suffer.I would
never become you.
Satish Verma, 17 september 2020
Pack Of Wolves
You had tasted the
salt of a viviparous.
There was no asterisk
no bluff to cross.
Why did you turned yourself in,
when the rock was
melting? Was't it an act
of surrender, of sort?
At the end of the road-
moon was waiting for
you. Could you climb the
night for a rendezvous?
Coming of age,
you will not exit the stadium
till the rape victim is shot dead.
Satish Verma, 18 september 2020
No Reason To Wait
The vagility
was close to disaster.
Standing amid the ruins,
we were ready to break ourselves.
We had come afar
in search of the golden deer,
which we find now standing dazed
in the moon's dawn.
The dark circles under the
eyes run deep, hiding the babies
unborn, looking back at the dead,
living god.
The sick society now finds
relief in the screams of
windows, that will not allow
the sun to peep in.
Satish Verma, 19 september 2020
What Was Not Said
The cuckoo gives
a final call.
Moon was rising.
Trivialities of the earth
be aside.My dream
is going to burst.
Golden keys in a ring,
hang down from your neck.
I am imprisoned again.
Into some intimate
moments, I will inject some
tears.My time has come.
Where the road
ends, a tall tree will wait
for your coronation.
Satish Verma, 20 september 2020
Miscues
After a little wee,
I will put the record straight
by removing your name
from the hit list.
No more, the river
bleeds, chasing the mannerism,
of falling stones on
the glass houses.
A massive selfie campaign,
overtakes the school bus,
full of wayward, tipsy
wandering kids.
The negativity
targets the blooms. Roses are
roses, they will not stop
sending their compliments.
Satish Verma, 21 september 2020
Irreconcilable
Genderless,
instrusive, was the withering effect,
questioning the sex.
Filling the space
between body and soul, you
sail into emptiness.
The mistakes-
happen in night, sleep.
Death will drop the stars.
Ergo, the embedded
testes will not descend; you
can kill the sperms of mosquitoes.
Blueberries, haul you
up from the darkness.
You will find your sun now.
Satish Verma, 22 september 2020
Silent Prayer
A manic moon
in ethereal night-
supplicating for a single
cord.Not becoming unfaithful
to me.
An empty desire-
in your absence, remaining
a secret even to myself.
Becoming pseudo, full
of titles, that was not my
world.I am engulfing my
achievements away
from you.
As the life moves on
leaving the bloody footprints
on my chest.I will
always fight my demons
with my broken pen.
Not a blessing I need,
I want to remain a human being.
Satish Verma, 23 september 2020
Striving Hard
Like inky jet,
ejected on white paper,
the cuttlefish
of a poet-
was warding off the
unseen enemy.
The dry flattened
chest, would remind you
of a chalky desert.
Only cacti grow there.
You go into a trance,
then convulsive seizures, with
a loud scream. You
invoke the toddler god
who would kill king cobra
fifteen feet long.
Satish Verma, 24 september 2020
On Sick Bed
There were involuntary
pauses.
When you stretch at the sheets.
Those were scorching
questions, about my identity.
I tell, I don't have any name.
The body was partitioned.
My head belongs
to psalms, which I don't understand.
My torso to the lost
ship which went down
without a torpedo.
My legs were my own
taking me, to places, where
I did not want to go.
Satish Verma, 25 september 2020
Praying Mantises
Unresponsive, an
alien ego: I was moving
deep into the soul-search.
The compactness was
snapping. Played against
the hype, the hawks were descending.
Like milkweed I drip,
waiting to be kissed. Copycat
the moon makes a scar. I am hurt.
I wanted to touch you
behind the lens. Closed in,
the lips won't meet. Cobra will
not spread the skin.
The lamb has lost the
innocence. Knife was
a blessing.
Satish Verma, 27 september 2020
The Atavism
The cannibalism was back.
You were eating yourself
alive.
The guts spilt,
would meet the dust,
in abode of earthworms.
They creep and burrow
and bury the organic themes.
Unpolluted, untouched.
The bowels undulate,
to the thumping rhythm,
of greedy feet. White eagles?
How far this digging
of gold mines will go?
Someone had swallowed the glitter.
Black birds are joining
the procession of
empty hearses.
Satish Verma, 28 september 2020
Traveling Constantly
Again I have come back
in the crowd of fakes,
to understand the nature
of dark.
The questions have become
my beacons, I am prodding deep
to stumble on the temper,
ethos of white lies.
You will not take your own
life now. We will stop grieving for
the sunken ferry. Who allowed
the novice, third mate to steer the ship?
Do you know, where the country
was going? The swords had
become a junk shop. Tongues stale,
the language foul.
So we will go for a collective hara-kiri?
Satish Verma, 29 september 2020
Closed Chain
Not a single word
wept, when sky was overcast.
Who wins ultimately?
The cell in the death,
or death in the cell?
I tried,
I tried not to do any wrong.
The centuries suffered.
The pollen in the wind
will not land. Each grain
was a harbinger of a relic.
The purple tears-
for bread and water. Who was
not hungry?
A peacock dance
goes waste-
without rains.
Satish Verma, 30 september 2020
Said In Part
Impacted in lunar surface,
the centuries of dust and
dust of centuries, were willing to surrender
orange love,
hovering over your trajectory.
The second death will not
come, flesh consumed.
I will draw your profile
in white desert of psalms.
Life was a big funeral.
Footprints in snow were vanishing.
I have come afar from the
home. I don't want to leave
the traces of my missteps.
Time was very venomous.
The roses will not die, never.
Satish Verma, 1 october 2020
Into The Dark
In western sky
hundreds of small birds were
flying in an arc,
synchronized in orange.
The grass, holding
the skirts, wants to cascade
in death of the
paramour.
Let the copper-
speak of hurt, in the
thighs of moon.
It will not climb tonight.
Satish Verma, 2 october 2020
The Bleak Landscape
In this cruel summer,
body becomes a river-
embroiled in sun.
Gnomes tied to our
bones dragging you down. You clasp the portal
of a feral cat.
Obsession rises.
You kill the petty thoughts
discreetly.
On the edge-
comes the thrifty moon
in night. No holds barred.
In desperation, you
call all the dead stanzas.
Nobody believed in leper's tale.
The black eyes burn
without flames.
Satish Verma, 3 october 2020
Knocking At Door
I would not bend the
truth. A grape in mouth
will stimulate the wedge.
Night will hammer on my chest
with glossy fists. I am born
again in your muteness.
A ghost line walks with me
to pull out the delicate verse.
Everyday a tulip is delivered
in the folds of woodcraft.
Satish Verma, 4 october 2020
Moonlit Lake
Hot fish
becomes topiarist.
I want to remove the scales.
Once for all.
The lesser island
holds the boat. You
become ready to rove
in dark.
Hot fish
scrambles at dawn.
Do not open the eyes.
It will go straight.
Satish Verma, 5 october 2020
Nobody Will Die
Knowing the beginning
and the end,
you stand in water.
Transparency should
come first, waiting
for your time.
A blind pursuit for a brilliant moment,
to break the black rock.
The bloodstained eyes
tell the opacity of eternal lies.
Can you melt the darkness?
The holy edge was inviting.
You want to settle
for a suicide, after the hymns.
O golden peaks
I don't want to climb the illusion.
Sun was sitting in my room.
A bluebird was
staring at me. When do I
start laughing?
Satish Verma, 6 october 2020
Sonorous Tones
To skim the sky
like swifts,
when you move away
from yourself.
Holding a four-leaf clover,
night drapes the moon,
taking a lion's share of light
on its wings.
Your full lips defeat
the kisses of incense. I
will come again to
learn Ars poetica.
The fake blooms. I will
never see the death
of a rose petal, skipping
the barbs.
Satish Verma, 7 october 2020
Stationary Waves
Becoming,
antinormal was not a-
big task, like discovering a new mineral.
It was upside down
a binary star.
Mother and son of morning.
From your absence,
I pick up a poem
and milk the words.
Unlike the purple poesy,
you write,
when the pith becomes the spirit.
The houses set apart
have no boundary layers.
We were immersed in our
strange thoughts.
Latest comments:
2 july 2025
ajw
Bardzo klarowny wiersz :)
2 july 2025
Ja też. Bez pływania czuję się.. niepełna
2 july 2025
Serdecznie dziękuję, ze zajrzałas. Korfu..
2 july 2025
sam53
Uwaąj na trawę kiedy kwitnie to pyli...chorzy
2 july 2025
wczoraj przed wieczorem było takie niebo, a
1 july 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
ja miałem na myśli to samo, dobry, przyzwoity,
1 july 2025
ja uwielbiam kąpiele, woda jest żywiołem życia
30 june 2025
violetta
Moja siostra jest teraz na Korfu :) piękny wiersz:)
30 june 2025
Niezmiernie cieszę się:)
30 june 2025
Tak i są przeróżne:)
30 june 2025
Uwielbiam tę ulotność chwili..
29 june 2025
Jaga
Strach na postrach, a dlaczego?/ wróbel na pszenicy
2 july 2025
wiesiek
1 july 2025
wiesiek
27 june 2025
Jaga
26 june 2025
Atanazy Pernat
23 june 2025
ajw
21 june 2025
Jaga
18 june 2025
Jaga
16 june 2025
ajw
14 june 2025
ajw
12 june 2025
Jaga