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Satish Verma, 20 august 2020
Foetus Was Not Moving
The mood-lifters
you will need, when
night falls and the poems
start howling.
The crisp massacre
of golden dreams, and you
start disposing off the defunct philosophy.
The myths of heaven
and hell, causing the colossal
anxiety.A dog walks past
a dead body, near the burned temple.
This is the world apart, where
you opened the book for
an eye hole.Then you suck the images.
The pebble in the pond
starts moving.No water was left
to wash the dirty idols.
Satish Verma, 19 august 2020
Charisma
The caterpillar on the lawn-
in the name of god,
eating away the copper,
the blue veins of thighs.
Barefoot I come to wish
you farewell. You must stand-
in the decaying woods,
to pronounce me dead.
The auburn fawn climbs on
the podium, to mimic a birdsong.
It was sloth time. Moon was
away and it was dark.
The eagle swoops on tiny
breasts, popping up from the
nest of muse. There were no
feathers and no beak left.
Satish Verma, 18 august 2020
Secret Whereabouts
Deck is empty, today: -
physics of life unfolds.
I know you less now, what
I knew you earlier.
A cloud city after the collision
had become distraught, after taking
a dip in mudslide.
With chainsaw I am cutting
myself. Why not to become a fossil
with imprints of the collapse―
of our culture and education, in
coal pits of ancient times?
The body has hardened, bones
twisted in agony, I grab the window,
to pull in the sun. Only
the eyes will shine in dark.
Satish Verma, 17 august 2020
Lotus-Eating
A repeat lover,
moon comes back
every night in different robes.
It was a question
of your conscience, when
you were being eaten alive.
Hyenas will come again-
to unearth the bones, to
give you the message.
Remaining poor was a great
bliss.You don't
need to pay for anything.
The hunger goes deep.
Fathomless.Your eyes roam
in search of a face after the hanging.
Was he smiling?
You hanker to touch
the eyes, which were burning
like coals.
Satish Verma, 16 august 2020
Unwashed By Sins
Life had tossed you in
flames.
Like hearthstone, I sit
deleting my colors.
Time on black feet
runs, on the sacred
river bank.
Molten lava will ask
when, and from where
the funeral procession will start.
A hard core wants
the evidence of rape. Two
leaves will not cover
the naked aggression.
The spooky game had
become, ultimately- the biopic. Once
angles used to roam
on the burning coals.
Satish Verma, 15 august 2020
Why Question Marks
The milk run appears like
flesh trade. A bigamous
marriage with two ideologies.
The politics looks like
a fudged slogan. The silence
was broken by screams.
A dwindling faith, could
not revive the ancient Buddha.
There was no pity, no sorrow.
Activism wades on home-
turf. The colossal night
releases the lynx vision.
I am the cipher, you
said, will not connect
to any integer.
Satish Verma, 14 august 2020
Not A Renegade
The summer moon with
poetry and musk.
I waited full evening
to become a coherent whole.
I wanted to quit, like
a Buddha, not to come back
in the baked mud house
where the sun would not break.
The earthen lamp with
a flickering flame, under the
holy basil, wants to die
before the moonrise.
Paralysed lower limbs
will make you sit like a god
on the altar, deaf and dumb.
You don't want to learn
about the red lips of the goddess.
Moon was bleeding heavily.
Sit in a lotus position.
Sky is going to fall.
Satish Verma, 13 august 2020
Celebrating Dark
I do not write about something
or anything. You will
not knock at my door.
I will be pained, if
you sweep the floor, to
tout the unwritten song.
I sing wordlessly. Even
the echo will open
the waning wounds.
My body, I give to
hawks, to escape the
elegies in the death well.
Even the night
will bring the pillow
for the dying moon.
Satish Verma, 12 august 2020
Chanced To Meet
It was not,
just a kiss of a zodiac sign.
You had become a stranger
between fight and flight.
The trick was capricious.
Albeit, a calligraphy
on a bare tree, engrafting
your name which keeps
on growing with broadening trunk.
You watch the sky
at night and start a monologue.
The stars were expanding,
filled with grief. The
despair of going back home
in dark.
Satish Verma, 11 august 2020
Venom And Stings
Behind the iron mask, with
unsteady hands, I
separate the conjoined thoughts
and start greening.
I will ask, the god
after a chilling spectacle
of undying freeze, that
don't give me the bliss,
but only truth.
No mercy, no sympathy.
I will walk on the spiked
road to reach you in your own
sepulcher, to become you
and suffer.
Who needs eternity
to grieve for dying lights?
Darkness has its holiness.At least
you won't see the beasts in action.
O god, let the blue sky
open like an abyss to embrace
the fallen baby.
Latest comments:
6 june 2025
Kreton
Ładne
5 june 2025
Yaro
Dziękuję z uśmiechem:)
4 june 2025
jeśli tylko
ładny kolor :)
2 june 2025
wieloodcieniowy ;)
1 june 2025
violetta
Dziękuję, tak zostawię jak twoja wersja. Wstawiłam
1 june 2025
sam53
a ja bym tak napisał... Moja pora kiedy kwitną
31 may 2025
Jaga
I ja szanuję... Tych, którzy nie tylko cenią,
31 may 2025
Nie będę płakać.
31 may 2025
wolnyduch
A jeszcze jedno szanuję ludzi, którzy cenią
31 may 2025
Miałam się nie odzywać, ale jednak napiszę WSYTD
30 may 2025
Ja tylko cytuję samozadowolonych...
30 may 2025
Dodam jeszcze jedno, jeśli będzie zły wybór, to
6 june 2025
wiesiek
5 june 2025
wiesiek
4 june 2025
wiesiek
3 june 2025
wiesiek
2 june 2025
wiesiek
13 may 2025
marka
13 may 2025
marka
9 may 2025
wiesiek
6 may 2025
Eva T.
3 may 2025
marka