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Poetry

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

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Satish Verma, 30 june 2015

The Nirvana

Tracing the primordial culture of truth
in its oneness, we find the ultimate answer.
Still the negative effect prevails
increasing the confusion.
Existence in now, has a travesty of truth.
Can we breakaway from our past?

Can we exist between right and wrong?
Between good and evil?
Between truth and fiction?
How many faces has reality?
The Self amalgamates the formulations
provides the mind with the safe exits.

The visualization
was not a happening, not actuality
an escape from pain & reality?
The thoughts were always disturbing
creating a false identity.
Thoughtless self had no movement.
Was that the nirvana?
The final moksha?

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Satish Verma, 29 june 2015

Dying Beautifully

I stay connected out of the body,
with fireworks,
to widen the relativity,
to read the language of fear.
Death of a tree was mourned
by leaves in shadow.
The dew lies awake crying.

The town was disappearing
without a dialogue
with past, we were digging our heritage.
In search of roots
life was killing the tomorrow.
You an answer seeking
which was not yet born.
Over the mind
an ancient prayer floats.

The house was on fire
the words cannot cover the flaming body.
It was dying beautifully.
The space between the memories
will shrink and we will destroy
the ugly calender.

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Satish Verma, 28 june 2015

Found Yourself

A parallel pain walks with you
when you split into space and time.
You were too shy to die, to feel
the anguish and bliss of death.
Something inside you springs
into a tree for a half-life.
The search for the meaning of life
takes roots in calamities.

They get back at you, the paranoids
on the horizon line, where the galaxy
meets the paradox, the void, the fear.
Any physical possibility generates the sparks.
The realization takes you back in mud and grass
outside the body to rest in peace.
The formless listening, seeing without objects
furthers hyperesthesia.

You have found yourself in emptiness!

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Satish Verma, 27 june 2015

Easy To Forget

Somewhere the truth lies still and frozen
why can’t we measure ourselves?
Measure the unseen depth?
Not for gain, not for bliss.
For inner tranquility, moving into the time
where living and dead meet.

The silhouette of cicrcling hawk was frightening
the Sun was wilting
and I had entered into a lonely sky.
The flash of insight burned my thoughts.
I must count my gifts.
Time was ruining my creases.

Here was a naked truth
unclothed by time
beyond the innocence of age.
You were walking on the planks of emptiness,
inviting death.
Was it so easy to die?
Easy to forget the unforgetful?
Your loaded years falling away?

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Satish Verma, 26 june 2015

A Tear Drop

Dying daily in eternity
for it to be,
a tear dropp held all the pain of life.
You were lost in words,
between the phrases
time was in, time was out.

The color, the theme was fading,
a seduced century
contriving the reasons to commit
the destruction of self-being.
I was struggling to empty my mind
completely.

To remain human in the loneliness
of ruins
I want to walk straight.

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Satish Verma, 25 june 2015

Second-Hand Event

Movement spurts the truth-
an endless journey.
The constant search for beliefs creates confusion.
Craving and wanting
generates more conflicts.
The meaningless life drifts.
Can you go beyond your dreams,
beyond your yearnings?

I wanted to disagree with death
the ultimate truth.
Life had many connotations,
there was no deliverance from reflections.
No freedom from trepidation
ego was the last refuge.
The ending of self
did’t take you to liberation.

Urremitting flow of time
awakens your soul.
Stillness of thoughts opens
the muted doors of meditation.
It suddenly transports you to the otherness.
You are not your name.
The indulgence to self
becomes a second-hand event.

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Satish Verma, 23 june 2015

Legend Withers

I do not display, but am.
Where the heart lies.
In truth. I try to discover the centre
of sorrow and bliss.
Life has not given
me full text of death.
The shadows are larger than reals.

You will not remember me
in endless night.
I am going on a long journey
to find out what is death of a name
the death of a prayer,
and ending of self.
The naked helices of truth are blazing.

Death of a dawn
some thing dies in me.
I don’t grieve.
The frozen pain melts,
legend withers.
The shadow is liberated from image.
The sadness leaves the fingerprints on my face.

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Satish Verma, 22 june 2015

My Children Of Sorrow

It was there all the time
the core fear, my inadequacy.
Tonight I will let go off the fire
and become a non-moving time.

When you come home for the arousal,
under the lids, you will find giant tears
frozen into a lake of no return.
Watch your steps and walk gingerly.

My unlocked door always welcomes
the incendiary past, pure happenings.
To return the clothes worn by the truth
on the night of gang rape.

It does not go, my nameless agony.
My children of sorrow, where will
they go? The scars?
I scan the sky.

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Satish Verma, 16 june 2015

Retrieve The Moon

He did not depart
or reached anywhere,
and did not realize himself.
When words could not find the meaning,
where the man will go?

He thought he did not believe in ‘why’,
the limits of purpose,
dictating the sentence.
Stones were still floating on the sea
and he was standing on a shipwreck.

Thinking and unthinking do not solve the mystery
of human turnings,
the malignancy of artificial intelligence.
A rebirth of enlightment can take over?

The objectivity becomes the subject.
You trot on the grass
to retrieve the moon,
fallen midnight.

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Satish Verma, 14 june 2015

Now

He, making his own cast. You knew it.
Unique mystique of transparency.
You could not touch him.

Walking ahead of the sun,
long shadow, sweating it out,
pungent odor.

Innocence hung from desiccated tongue,
he preserved original speech
before falling prey to polymorphism.

Certain amount of tears, some sadness
make life sweet for a while.
Phrases are not hurting now.