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Poetry

	Satish Verma
	PROFILE About me Friends (3) Poetry (3973)

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Satish Verma, 1 march 2018

Rolling Stones

Between the sun and moon
you come to transcend
the frescoes on the sky
for a lost chance.

It fuels the anxiety.
When do I meet you
in dark to explore the
lightning rod.

The inside enemy will
allude to self-immolation.
Where will end the
agony of man?

The carnage continues
unabated. The crowds are thinning.
Lurking men on fimbriae dump the veils.
Who will invite them today?

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Satish Verma, 28 february 2018

Not Quite A Prayer

You had placed floating
garden on the crest
of five-headed white cobra.

The hooded death,
strikes; when you were
tending to bonsai.

Over to moon,
you send the message. But
The book was incomplete.

On the way to
tiny thoughts, an odyssean
task to put the right words.

I will go and
stand on the edge, to
watch the glorious senset.

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Satish Verma, 27 february 2018

Colored Designs

Everytime you discover
a new black hole;
someone crosses the border
and starts crying.

Thread weaved in and out
of tapestry. You were nailed
to the wall, which never
had any doors.

Why were you not a mackintosh?
You scripted strangely, talking
of an open world. You smell
a war between the poems-

in a book. There was no ad hoc
pain in groins. Your boney
nose went to find the peat moss
in the jungle of sandalwoods.

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Satish Verma, 26 february 2018

Retaliation

On the edge,
you receive the onslaught
of moonlight.

Drummed and sawed,
you take up the challenge
and move on.

In rains
the dreams wash the rainbow
inviting the Iris.

Tonight, you
will have an audience
will the estranged god.

A taper
in the sun wants its
place on the moon.

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Satish Verma, 25 february 2018

A Quiet Night

After the spooky night
there was the
morphean balm.

You pull out the meat
from the bones.
A genteel confession-

keeps tumbling out.
The haunted house
sends forth the tiny ghosts.

It was moon time.
You will drop a torpedo-
to unsettle the stray thoughts.

The geometry
falters. Lines are drawn
to remove the dots.

The skin you left
on the road;
still glows like a smoldering coal.

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Satish Verma, 24 february 2018

Clairvoyance

The spirit hovers.
I am not interested in a
séance. Let me come face to face
with the book to share clean
or unclean thoughts.

Not able to print my deep
angst. A clash of cultures. I
will call the unprinted scream. The
dismembered limbs begin
a dance of unfolding
the hate.

It was a jig.
Of scaffoldings for the
peacocks to shed their wings.
Everyone was falling for the green-gold
to be embossed on the dust
cover of life.

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Satish Verma, 23 february 2018

Clairvoyance

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Satish Verma, 22 february 2018

Straws

Tribalism:
You break the rules
and become a renegade.
*
Do not know
any god. All the
deities were man-made
*
In dark, you
will recognize the faces
of unslept poems.

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Satish Verma, 21 february 2018

Visualization

Looking back at self-portrait
was bewitching.
Self-abuse? Do you think
we should start preparing for a
holy murder?

Like bad sex, you hold
a blue thought and pick
up a fight with a radical dialogue.
If birds start leaving, what
you plan to do with contemporary
poetry.

In a locked room you left
your bloody footprints, sometime back.
Now you are caught with a
broken pen. Time was up. Hand
over your lips and become mute.

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Satish Verma, 20 february 2018

Perversion

Again. The search
will start
for the virgin truth.

Unseen. The invisible
character, unfolds
a bipolar paradox.

So far. I have come
groping in dark
for a terpsichare.

Spineless. You
fly in the wordless
blues of the veins.

The underbelly
was smooth, tied with a
criminal moon.