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Poetry

	Satish Verma
	PROFILE About me Friends (3) Poetry (3945)

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Satish Verma, 7 october 2018

The Futurist

Unpunctuating,
fear will slice the time,
and you will be a sitting duck
in the hands of brutal clock.

Drink, Apollo,
with round eyes and
limbless torso. He walks on
the curves, reciting mantras.

There was intrigue and blackmail
in return for not telling
the indiscretion of celibates.

A damp squib. There was lot
of hissing sound, but no
explosion. Procreatiom will
stop without fire.

Wants to return to pines.
The cones, the pricks and
swaying hips of splendid suggestion.

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Satish Verma, 6 october 2018

Marigolds

Wanting to know about
the violence in cuckoo's nest?
Heard the first call to court a mate.
*
You are not lonely
today. Moonlight will be
there at night.

*
The dark melts to
spring a surprise.
Suddenly there are colors around.

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Satish Verma, 5 october 2018

Conceiving

The knife peels off
the silence.
Colours were very shrewd.

*

Tonight I want to sleep
open-eyed, to keep a
vigil on shooting stars.

*

The wood god
had no limbs. Only jewels
were used as prostheses.

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Satish Verma, 4 october 2018

Few Points

Write me a poem,
under the flickering candle.
Moon will not come tonight.

*

I was very sad today.
Could not find the vault
where I had kept your prints.

*

Not far from the lake
where we used to walk,
a blue bird has arrived.

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Satish Verma, 3 october 2018

Benevolence

Need mercy for a
Freudian slip.
I was sitting on a window.

The light went out
from the eyes of the masterpiece.
Only stones were left.

Give me the figurine.
I wanted to cut open the navel
and find out the blue god.

Will you pull the chariot
of moon? The black horses
will not send the blessings.

The dawn was still hiding
in a bunker. First you feed
a child and then kill the rising sun.

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Satish Verma, 2 october 2018

The Assaulter

You were aging by nights.
Days will not seek
to defend you.

Drawing the landscape
of a snowfall,
you will die in a portrait.

The world meets
you again like a jawless
lamprey with sucker mouth.

Beyond the blues
lies a tower, where
you will not find the stairs.

In battlefield, stands
the army of red ants, ready
to pound upon the moonlight.

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Satish Verma, 30 september 2018

The Drowning

The ancient war is on.
You kill,
or get killed.

Do not jostle.
You were sinking in quicksand
taking on the depth.

In exile, you
wanted the remains of
a brilliant moon, after it was possessed.

The poet will find
the jungle, standing quietly
after the execution, was stayed.

Between the witness
and accused, the judge will not
reverse, the slant of the truth.

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Satish Verma, 29 september 2018

Seminal

An early bloomer:
you jumped on the otherside,
of Milky Way, at night.

Hearing the voices,
from inside,
becoming a Buddha.

The semen, without light-
sprouts, into a mad tree.
Not normal.

Starts walking at acute
angle, randomly,
for a cosmic, rare encounter.

A severed hand
writes the destiny of man
who went wild.

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Satish Verma, 28 september 2018

Myth Of Suicide

Be laid:
with your private wounds
beside me.
For otherness.

Can you come out from―
your flesh, and watch
the ribs, becoming
infrasonic?

The desiccated dreams,
inhaling the fire,
drinking pain. You have
come full circle.

Can you describe the
journey of dead souls?
Without tears? Are you
going to reject the end?

The ruins are always a beauty.

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Satish Verma, 27 september 2018

Walking In The Woods

Like war of words.
A fierce battle of winds
erupted between
mountain and woods.

There was no
rain, after the clouds
gathered. It was time
to say goodbye―

to moon. The sky
was playing host
to fireballs and coming
meteorites like man's fall.