Satish Verma, 28 december 2020
Like a snake
it moves.
My poem.
You are not, what you were
in the night, lightning
the grey moon.
I hear, what you
did not say or did-
not think.
Even dark
forebodings, move like red
ants, from the slit eyes.
I cover the faults
via songbird, which
was calling, desperately,
unwaitingly.
Satish Verma, 27 december 2020
You decline to speak-
to listen-
to see
like a meditating Buddha.
Like a sunflower
with moon seeds,
ready to explode at sunset.
Strangulated-
neck, hanged from a tree
to tell the tale-
that you were violated.
This was the principle of
cosmic order. Poor god
waits for the world
to show the rage.
I wake up the tree.
Leaves fall like unspoken words
from the decaying oak.
Satish Verma, 26 december 2020
In suddenness, I will
write a poem for you.
You had stopped at the
outset, like a black moon
opening up perfervidly.
Remote from the oneness
of life, a flame leapt up
to ignite the process of birth-
without perceiving.
Come let's meet at the
navel of the destiny.
I had the penchant of
burning myself.
You, who would never be
visible, I will dust all the mirrors
to find out.
Waiting for the festival to begin.
Satish Verma, 25 december 2020
Refusing to be
healed.
A wound will stay awake.
Mired in bitter controversy,
the captain said-
the war was not a deliberate act of
atoning for the soul.
That prevents the sun
to come out after a long night.
You walk in the light years,
gaunt and dazed,
in pain of hunger. The words
hang in shame.
A city fails, for
another voice of verse,
Satish Verma, 24 december 2020
Stoma
opens, ejects the scream.
Oh, my god.
The ink spilled
on the sheet, hiding the code.
The scared veins
of pure honey, wets the lips-
of gills. There is no salt.
The water explodes
bursting the dam. No spine was
worth of robbery.
Golden nuggets
are displayed now. Would you
bargain the uphill?
The nightmares begin again.
Satish Verma, 23 december 2020
Overreaching for chemical signs
and word for word,
you want to move on-
without parents.
This was only a poetic
idea, that no weapon will
be used for execution.
Not offering an apology,
we were dissecting the ethics
of violence and war.
A chilling reminder, you are
going to starve the definitions.
But no clarity was visible.
I am becoming bones
and taut nerves.Only eyes
were looking ahead of the tempest.
Roofs were melting.
You want to hit the sky.
Satish Verma, 17 december 2020
Understanding-
the sexuality
of clock.
Time moves
the hands, of past,
the present.
The future
belongs to no one.
This poem, cosmos.
Satish Verma, 16 december 2020
A near cult glows/ on faces-
for harvesting peace,
saluting each other, without flame.
I have come so far
though you did not want the winds to move.
A new theme was
developing. The first wicket has fallen.
The collective suicide
will follow.
Invoking the sun, you stay in shadows,
without qualms to hear
the swish of swords.
The phenomenalist,
strides confidingly to read your mind.
Heart cries-
Uncontrollably.
Satish Verma, 15 december 2020
No it will not work.
The amalgam of arrival
and departure.
Debunking the theme
of reincarnation, you enter into the body of a poem.
Crowned and faded out,
all the icons were diminishing
in stature.A winter bath
tries to hold the halo-
for sometime, and then disappears
in obscurity.
Where the things go wrong
and connectivity snaps?
The tall people, yes very tall,
crumble under the weight of anonymity.
When you climbed down from
the pedestal, light was dim.
Did you ever receive a blast in face?
Satish Verma, 14 december 2020
The tall, dense, tree of life
divides the culture, ages.
Will witness-
the gorgeous, ruinous and
hideous days.
How would I claim
the legacy of a deaf and dumb
sky?
The fragile bones of the
earth, break.
Blackberries burn under
the eyes.
The hidden herons
fall involuntarily, when you
trim the tree for a
new moon.
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