Satish Verma, 28 grudnia 2023
You wished a
talented end. When you
denied me, where
Was the wrong moon?
Like nightbird you birthed
an astral poem.
Plunged in bone―
deep, an arrow ejects a
rose from belly button.
Satish Verma, 27 grudnia 2023
I am not a paragon.
Everyday I will repeat
some hymns to myself.
Sometimes the
truth becomes transgender.
From god to goddess.
Grace and courtesy.
The moon anchors a smile.
Tears roll silently.
Satish Verma, 26 grudnia 2023
Strawberry moon
descends. Words wait for
your hubris. The lake
Never arrives,
doubting the color of
rising sun. I get
My gift of sacred
punishment to solve the
love's chemistry.
Satish Verma, 23 grudnia 2023
Give me pain of
your pain in summer moon,
not to miss the blues
Of valleys.
God to God a scream devastates
some anagrams.
Tonight I will sit
under stars to cool
the sadness of tears.
Satish Verma, 22 grudnia 2023
Give me pain of
your pain in summer moon,
not to miss the blues
Of valleys.
God to God a scream devastates
some anagrams.
Tonight I will sit
under stars to cool
the sadness of tears.
Satish Verma, 21 grudnia 2023
I ask you, to be my
rage. Unwavering in
the timelessness.
No more I was
protagonist. New moon
will sit on my eyes.
Bare foot I walk
towards the burning pyre, to
see the ascent of ashes.
Satish Verma, 20 grudnia 2023
It comes nearer
and nearer every night,
the face, like fog.
A cult of moon
spills the milk on the pink lips.
Salt and the honey.
Before fated
kiss of death, you pluck,
roses from eyes.
Satish Verma, 19 grudnia 2023
Body was culture
at blue heights. Frozen
till my candle lights.
I fumble in dark
to remain human. No one
would be godfather.
Give back my pain.
Unwrap my bones. The blood
should be drying up.
Satish Verma, 17 grudnia 2023
Today the sun
will rise without you in pain of
two stars kissing.
A brief pause
between the hiccups. Poem
was incomplete.
How would I say
you goodbye facing the dark
burningmoon?
Satish Verma, 16 grudnia 2023
You should not
have done this? Trespassing
the virginity of the
olive branch and the ashes.
I will borrow the
words to clean blood
in your eyes. A lovely
jasmine will sit on your lips.
The death holds its
own mercy between good
and bad. Any fondling
of moon was a bliss.
Where will dysplasia
go, after giving an unbearable
loss? You cannot roll the
carpet after the blaze.
The tangerines will give
a big surprise.
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