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Poetry

	Satish Verma
	PROFILE About me Friends (3) Poetry (3938)

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Satish Verma, 17 july 2021

Night Night

Like a vampire,
night swoops down.
Temple bells ring.

I am happy―
not to invoke any god.
Crickets share my muse.

The tall minarets,
stand erect in dark.
Muezzin gives a call.

My friends long
dead, would come and
talk ceaselessly.

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Satish Verma, 16 july 2021

Not True

A pigeon
flutters, in my frail―
chest, ready to fly away.

The train does
not stop here. Why
do I keep standing?

A man dies in
a blizzard. You
need to pay for it?

What was the
hallucination? I
was living for a lie?

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Satish Verma, 15 july 2021

You Want To Be Born Again

In evening I need
to speak with my small voice
to fill my dreams with moon.

Buried alive in the brick―
wall, a frightened poem
wails.

I will meet you, my muse―
in your space, without any pang,
though the road has not ended.

Drinking the dark
wordplay with no qualms
at the virtual rise of doom.

The fireflies, with their
breasts aglow, were ready to conceive
the radical ultimate.

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Satish Verma, 14 july 2021

Morning Mist

A complex question―
it was. Why your
hands were trembling?

The body becomes
a kayak. You were sailing
alone in the lake of bluebells.

Elegy and epilogue
become one. I have come
to meet my humming bird.

Still suspended in
deathless space, the sun
wants to hide.

The revelation
was not to solve the enigma,
but to listen to inside.

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Satish Verma, 13 july 2021

My Pain

Falling in green love
with yourself―
creating violence.

Serenity has no relevance
now. The edge was
asking you to go for a jump.

Nil tolerance. I was
fighting with me, veiled
in uncertainties.

Listen, Here lies the
crux. Nobility forgotten, I ask
who failed whom in this age of betrayals?

The evil grows. Shapeless
truth was running in fog―
and now the dragon rises.

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Satish Verma, 12 july 2021

An Unasked Eulogy

It will come back to you
again and again― the thought
nudging through the magnolias.

Without telling you―
the creamy pink― waxy smell of
the death of the guiding light.

I am lost anew
at the center of conflicts
between earth and moon.

The unspoken pain
of the aroma undrafts
from the fragrant words.

Life folds the hands
at the chest before cracking open
the yawning chasm.

I touch you without any meaning.
No eyes. No ears― miming
secretly the footfalls of shadows.

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Satish Verma, 11 july 2021

Facts Of Life

The decay has―
killed the dream songs,
of shut mouths.

Trees were rolling
down on beach
when hurricane collapsed.

It was raining,
carbs and limbs, when
clouds gathered.

You love the
potholes, underground
caves, to hide cardinal sins.

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Satish Verma, 10 july 2021

Facts Of Life

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Satish Verma, 9 july 2021

The Seeds Of Our Lips

I will come and meet
you in absence of past.
Why to open the window
to moon. I was not right,
not wrong.

Incensed in endless emotions
by default. I still love
my muse desperately, when you
come and go
in between the verses.

The time bars you
in moments, in twists of puzzles.
You don't make a move,
don't fold your wings,
and cast your spell in the shadows.

The lost sun of my path,
sends the fresh, full moon― between
night and day to blend the pain
and ecstasy of rapture, of knowing
the depth of holy lake.

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Satish Verma, 8 july 2021

Bewitching

Absolutely zilch.
Sometimes you feel―
nothing moves.

Coming out of
remorse, there was no
confronting power―

to reason. Even
time freezes in your pen,
ink evaporates.

The blues, become
a sacred cove, where
a lake would take birth.

And a speaking
pain will embrace your
sinking boat.