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Poetry

	Satish Verma
	PROFILE About me Friends (3) Poetry (3939)

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Satish Verma, 15 january 2021

Of Heaven Aside

The intimate god,
versus the body of slain faith,
was not ready to bring in the rains.

What quality was the substance
in shadows, while you were
reigniting the inquest?

The space was shrinking
noiselessly. The nest―
was crowded. You would not

place your frame on the wall.
This happened, which
was, not supposed to happen.

The eyes don't blink.
You are looking straight in the
glass of elegy. Why coming and going

of a name should affect the masses?

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Satish Verma, 14 january 2021

Do Not Throw The Stones

Living in a wax palace
and deliberately―
firing it.

The beseeching fault
of life. It demands pure
blood.

Self-consciously I
pick up the glossy cowries,
with beautiful patterns
and play my childhood.

How come, the style
remains the same as that
of a butcher or a saint?

The humiliating defeat
in the hands of a dirty character―
becoming a class.

The cradle rocks. A new―
born theme is thrown out.

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Satish Verma, 13 january 2021

Of Revenge

Half night of insomnia
half night magma
you never go quiet.

Tremors of blaze
enter the veins.
Moon was crazy.

The graveyard.
First you dig up the hole.
Shot, then you are tossed inside.

A copper in the tank,
you sleep past the belly.
Vessel in vessel, you are dead.

Like a relic, you carry
your head, looking chasing
the cottonwood tree.

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Satish Verma, 12 january 2021

Losing Oneself

What would you give
when I ask for nothing?

A mysterious lineage
of the soul. It has no sequence,
no flesh, no body.
I was heading towards the edge.

Did you know the perfect
no home? It has no crumbling walls,
no hurting windows. The gray roof of sky?

The earth, the damaging
winds. An hour of awareness
in wait. You start
exploring jinxed mind,

hearing voices, but no words.

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Satish Verma, 11 january 2021

The Blue Lake Burns

When the roaring tiger
was behind the bars, there was
this otherness. So much voiceless
was that, it had wounded me.

Your life had entered my
dome to meet its darkness, my
sky, my moon and the
riot of color begins.

By unbecoming, dying
in every home, to write the
script of desire, you will take
the path, where my marrow went down.

The clocks, on every wall
to remind me the moving time.
Will you wait for the explosion
to stop the trembling hands?

Not giving an answer you shut the door.

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Satish Verma, 10 january 2021

The Golden Dust

The other day.
A full moon was walking
on the pavement
like a pedestrian.

I was dumbfounded
at the sight of the imperial walk.
To give a poetical start?

Was it a pin drop visual
with no sound? Only night
was listening to footfalls?

I would not know of,
the journey of ending
or ending of journey.

Like death burning
inside the seed, or a golden
flame becomes a lapping machine?

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Satish Verma, 9 january 2021

Vagaries

Intimacy in dark
carries the emptiness,
pauses in the way-
under the faint moon.

A homeless bird heads towards
the lake.

Passiflora.
The flowers remind you
of crucifixion.

The human loss was intense.
The fire within, extinguished.
No stone was ready to move.
Do you want the sound to be on?

The firmness now starts
melting. A holy river caresses
the bridge. Shores tremble.

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Satish Verma, 6 january 2021

Wary Of Tomorrow

A moth love was evolving,
without a flame.
You are going to bang the wall.

It was too early
to sing aubade. Night was
still rolling on the leaves.

A tall tree failed,
to send the message of moon drop.
How will I read my palm now?

At funeral, a crowd
waits for the bride. The groom
jumped off the dam.

No music was left
between the lips. Angst
was palpable in stumps.

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Satish Verma, 5 january 2021

Flying Woes

The cat was finally
dead.
After a professional cut.

An infant injury
of the cadaver, will not speak

of the dead river, of elegy.

No life-
after the rite of passage.
You are confined in a coffin
buried in ice-
in north and south.

The space shrinks
between the screams.
A syncope overshadows the moon.
The howling starts.

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Satish Verma, 4 january 2021

Nobody Was Innocent

You were not facing
the facts to defeat yourself-
with palm leaves wiping
away the stains of moon.
The confessions were not
valid in light. Darkness will
decide the fate of an exhibitionist.
In the game of survival,
onlookers become strangers.
You will not stand on your feet.
Invisible hands clap.
Sometimes we don't talk and look eyeful.
I have nothing to begin today
nothing to finish.
The sea swells up without a storm.