Satish Verma, 23 march 2018
It insults the─
primitivism. Hypothermia, you
become cold-blooded.
*
Fractured limbs.
How will you climb the
mound of questions?
*
Gray night.
Between black and white
the ashen moon.
Satish Verma, 22 march 2018
The numbers were going up
and hallowed men were no─
more saints.
You find that your shirt
was stained. Now
you talk
to strangers. fear creeps─
under the skin.
You come near each other in─
dark. Reverting yourself
Against the wall of water as
high as your ego. Epidural abscess─
a silence of unknown.
Now, every hour you die. Light
abducts the dreams. Nothing to-
talk about the blitzkrieg.
Satish Verma, 21 march 2018
Hauling up
the debris of your life
in failing light.
*
Bending like grass.
Standing like a solid rock─
where did you reach?
*
The fatal night─
to remove the downy velvet
from your sharp antlers.
Satish Verma, 20 march 2018
It was the day of
dead patriarch.
I was fondling an echidna.
The home was
carried away in the─
storm. Must find a broom.
On the remains─
of a burned-out soul.
A hope sits on the altar.
A piano drenched in rain─
will not sing in the gale.
The sky will collapse─
one day, I will bring
back the bluebird,
for a revenge.
Satish Verma, 19 march 2018
Festival of─
earthen lamps.
Separating the grain from chaff.
*
Pigeons will─
not be let out to fly.
It is going to be a moonless night.
*
The skin has peeled off.
Time to move on.
The bared trees.
Satish Verma, 18 march 2018
A dynast in the storm-razed
polity will ask─
for a pardon.
By choice there was
no suicide. You will
eat the clouds one day.
Taking the brunt, ─
living near the sea of
people, a window goes shut.
Curtly, with
levitation, the wind
twists, one and everybody.
An owl tattoo, will
tell it all. The hurricane
has reached your door.
Aftermath was a
conspiracy of silence.
Every one was speaking of landfall.
Satish Verma, 17 march 2018
The limbs had the raw strength.
They were learning
to walk on the water.
The silver axe
will hack off the neck
after the daunting recovery.
In gestational surrogacy,
you don’t want
the incisors.
To kill a wanderer,
you need a howling─
wind, fledged.
A shoebox contains
the handprints of a skeleton
and liquid eyes.
The hunger has a blue
desire. A savage bite
will bring out the space.
Satish Verma, 16 march 2018
After the deluge: dark,
where the river,
meets the sea-
a city becomes a ghost.
*
The narrator,
went to sleep,
A story moved on.
*
A replica
steps out from the black
water, white
as the moon.
Satish Verma, 15 march 2018
Night was all black.
I could not find my
hands / half-dead─
velvety ribs. I want
to rub the spikes and─
toe the line of hurricane.
The naked eye, a-roving
will search for the moon
as the superstorm was─
poised for a landfall.
To receive the wrath─
the ants will find the─
watermark and move to
higher grounds. The sea
throws up the secret of unknown.
Satish Verma, 14 march 2018
Superstorm
outside. Inside a deep
ocean, thoughtless.
*
You want to know
the boundaries of scent.
A musk deer wonders.
*
After the death─
of hurricane, would you
come to see my hibiscus?
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