Satish Verma, 1 october 2012
It was a thorn in flesh
before our fires met in midstream,
the waterplant had become untouchable.
I saw you lying
behind a thin veil,
like a prophet, in timeless agony.
The moon had left a wreath
for a failed worrior,
who could not move into the tunnel.
Entering the childhood again
to reap the sorrow
of a dry fountain.
Ah, in the eternal withdrawl
I come face to face
with my dying earth.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 30 september 2012
Sky wept
when you hanged the young truth
from a tree.
A shadow falls
on the hill
for a savior.
A winged flaw
becomes a legend
for the sake of a sword.
A nameless letter
betrays the will of a cage
to set the bird free.
My forehead marks
the wrinkles of ancestors
who would not give a name.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 29 september 2012
And that did it.
Many voices in a mayhem
lost the face of lightening.
The starlight woke in rain
untainted by dust of beds
encased in wilful folds.
The tremors will not stop
the knocking of speech, after
an intimate kiss of the void.
Talking of lonely peaks,
whom I will not touch them in morning.
Let the night take its revenge.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 28 september 2012
You shall read me
when I am gone
in green pain.
There had been gifts
unhanded.
Unwrap them in dark –
when moon was
yellow.
The beams will rub your body.
A bared stasis
will stop the fluids.
Wash your face with tears.
It seems a long time
when I touched your eyes.
My clouds would not find you.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 27 september 2012
A green smoke was rising
to ferret out
the elusive pain
without body.
I went in search of
fidgety words
to patch up the conflicts
of flesh.
Bold as Passiflora,
Crucifixion was complete.
Today a gift of obeyance
will arrive.
It was a fake.
The eyes on the hump.
Camel has to cross
a steep desert.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 26 september 2012
Wading
in your memories.
Through
an orange smoke.
Against
a mirror,
a lake
shrinks.
Days are smaller now
licking
the night
I will count the candles
Of your birthday.
A haunted landscape
scoops a wedding
of a flame with a gale
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 24 september 2012
I hate the self-immolation
of orange sex.
Weather was leaving
blue strings on the skin.
Redemption was incomplete
by sharing the legs
Lips will not knead
the ears.
Like wakng in darkness
for a passage to grief.
Black moon will step aside
for a flame at the end of tunnel.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 23 september 2012
A bucketful of moon
falls on my door
with the smell of a salted night
on frozen shoulders of a punctured landscape.
I start expanding
unseeing a sentimental lake.
Life was asking a very high price
for the purple bruises.
Why do you land on the sea of names?
Only one face sinks in the spill
of words. Would you put the green
rain in my glass of absinthe?
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 22 september 2012
Be my soul in outrageous
sunshine of knowledge.
I need a shade of tears.
The barrels were still smoking
after the war.
I will not wake up in morning.
Lightless the day will mourn
for the fallen moon
on the breast of a hill.
Tear down the curtain.
Let me sea the face of death.
I have a long debt to pay.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 21 september 2012
From the unread book
I look back at three generations, with
whom I was fighting
for a staircase, which did not
take me anywhere.
It was an edge over the wisdom
for footfalls in space
for an apology for an unknown warrior
waiting of a midnight sun
for a foretaste of time.
I do not want you to come
as a pawnbroker,
I have nothing to offer for exchange.
From my grandfather I got his shoes,
my father gave me his eyes.
Still I am groping in dark
to justify the everlasting sky
full of needles.
Satish Verma
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