Satish Verma, 10 june 2022
By the time you had
left the podium, you―
had turned gray like an
overcast sky.
Life was short like a
twitter. How do I―
call you from the jungle
of screams.
Do not go into the woods.
The nightingale sobs
quietly. Flight was good
but there was no depth.
Want to nix my day? Take
away my pen. I will write
a poem with soaring
flames of my heart.
Satish Verma, 9 june 2022
How much I know me,
I will ask you one day.
That was a symbolic
wish, if you were on moon
to celebrate your own death,
at the hands of unknown.
The deepest mystery was,
why must you live.
This was a culture of thriving with
make-ups. If you recite
a truth, you become ugly.
Hunted by lymphs and
nodes you cannot walk straight.
You turn back, when
the time of departure comes.
Hail the dead, who
licks the rock-salt in end.
Nothing else was real.
Satish Verma, 8 june 2022
The name. You were my
flesh, my bones. Forgive
me for this moment. I am
burning all my belongings.
Looking at small things,
weather beaten. I have
come back to pay my
indelible debt.
Darkness was always there.
Who am I to light the candles
in storm to glorify the thoughts―
the shrine of past sins?
Ichthyotic. I am peeling
off the skin, the dirt― the stains.
Want to stand naked, firm, rigid
and erect in my aloneness.
It was time to climb blood totem.
Satish Verma, 7 june 2022
I wanted to see you―
in leap of night,
when the dreams walk
like moon's center of pull.
A book keeper will ask―
where this revenge stops?
Like sex slave you submit
to the lust of the system.
How does one die inside?
A day after, when you surrendered
to a cheat under the sun,
a mocking bird started singing.
A paper hawk makes a―
dive in dry river. Sleepwalking
begins to collect the lost
memories with an empty bowl.
Satish Verma, 6 june 2022
Blowing up a no-show
you walk out of
procession of primates.
Moon and memories
and million of years
to become a full being.
Cognition gained,
I touch the raw nerves
of liquid stones.
Roasted nuts,
I will taste you,
once I revise my vocabulary.
The laced stars,
one on one, I meet
the dark holes of your galaxy.
O god, at equal. I will
call you one day to
climb down from my shoulder.
Every age wipes out the footprints.
Satish Verma, 5 june 2022
What was that in your
eyes, which still haunts me in
evening of life.
You will not say, I
will not know where the story of
wailing song bird ends.
The first dark cloud of
Monsoon, becomes messenger―
of the young drowned moon.
Let's go and collect
the gifts of parting kisses.
Deliverance stops.
Satish Verma, 4 june 2022
With a hushed tone
the shadow of the full moon
falls in the blue lake.
Stampede brings into sight―
another murky tale of fast
disappearing earth.
You must not hear of―
me again, at the pile of
gifts from the red Mars.
Knowing you in end―
to unknow my destiny of
walking on hot coals.
Satish Verma, 3 june 2022
Hurting yourself,
You won't say anything about
falling notches. It bruises, it
bleeds.
You will condole,
and like sundew, trap my poems
in backfoot.
Explicitly I will ask,
never stop crying.
Your neighbourly pain will descend.
Its lips become dirty,
when facial expression of moon
alters.
I want to change
my religion, drumming up
the nuances of refusal.
It wrongs you,
when an acceptance,
means never.
Satish Verma, 2 june 2022
Why am I so sad?
I asked the waning moon.
The sun started flirting.
The vellum― still carries
the imprint, where you had
pressed hennas hands.
I came out once of
myself to look at me
from the falling star.
You would never know.
How had you cheated yourself once―
by praying for death.
Satish Verma, 31 may 2022
Like a dwarf planet,
you follow me in distant
sky, so near― so far.
I love you like poet
Pablo Neruda. My eyes in―
your dreams, wide open.
When the tears would wait
to bloom like hidden flowers―
under the steady rocks.
Not me, not you, were
aware of the rising moon,
between snow and sleet.
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