Satish Verma, 15 grudnia 2023
To become insane,
I think. I miss the ruptured
wounds.
I ask myself,
was it true, you
were painting water body?
Somebody was
laughing after the funeral
of raped truth.
The bells go
without sound. I hold
my trembling hands.
The door knob was
broken. I cannot open the
portal of dreams.
A lone swan treads
softly on the smashed mirror
to reach the lake.
Satish Verma, 14 grudnia 2023
Living without you
was like a kite, flying
alone in blue sky.
Like a downy mildew
climbs the damp poems.
Letters tremble.
Wearing all red, frills
a setting sun, was
smiling in deep sleep,
tears swiping the dry lips.
Maybe, you wanted
to set me free from
tarantula's web.
Going there
where moon weeps.
I will search the rock.
Satish Verma, 12 grudnia 2023
Simple hearted priest
asks me to stay dead. The mystery
of living in the eyes of God is unveiled.
One day words would stop.
Then you find the killer was killed and the
suffering of living would exist ever.
The point of observation
has no observer. The mode of revert
living gives you eternal peace.
Satish Verma, 11 grudnia 2023
You were eating
out from our hands.
O God, we are hungry.
Sometimes I collapse
in on myself, to achieve
the quietus. Even moonlight
won't escape from me.
I collect the ashes
falling from your
golden locks. Was it the death's
pride?
The moon fattens
to receive the lost crown
of sleeping queen.
The shadow falls
at your feet. You become
taller than me.
Satish Verma, 10 grudnia 2023
Why your lips
quiver, kissing a rose
before sunrise.
A serious question
seeks a simple answer.
Why did you live
inside me?
I don't believe in
myself. I will go
with the moon.
Just wanted to
know, how do we
die in sleep, when
body curls like a snake
to shed the skin.
I look at the world
pass by. None was
my grain.
Satish Verma, 9 grudnia 2023
I don't recognize
you, after giving
a pause to poem.
It was an eerie
accident. I don't own
my body, and you don't
own your tears.
With solemnity, I
place my book, on the road
going nowhere. To be
read by the sun.
You buy the words
I sell the silence.
The hyphens wail.
Cost rises.
Satish Verma, 8 grudnia 2023
How I loved you
green, in hot summer
noon, when you
Were not mine.
Sky scented with nostalgia
talks to gypsy moon.
Each star becomes
a wound. The winged thoughts
fly like monarchs.
Satish Verma, 7 grudnia 2023
Time to think.
You bring handwritten
testament with mistakes.
I exist because
you were there. Between
sun and moon, there
was no controversy.
I was knitting
my life near hornets nest.
Words betray the anguish,
giving credit to hemlock.
Disempowered
in shadows, I become
my own rival to fight
green snakes.
In sleepwalking
you discover the blind
walls. All blood-stained skulls
start rolling.
Satish Verma, 6 grudnia 2023
Time to think.
You bring handwritten
testament with mistakes.
I exist because
you were there. Between
sun and moon, there
was no controversy.
I was knitting
my life near hornets nest.
Words betray the anguish,
giving credit to hemlock.
Disempowered
in shadows, I become
my own rival to fight
green snakes.
In sleepwalking
you discover the blind
walls. All blood-stained skulls
start rolling.
Satish Verma, 5 grudnia 2023
Alter ego,
you were my broken
mirror.
From where do we start
watching crescent moon?
Where the poet
will go in search of ink,
to reshape the words of solace,
living out of truth?
O, incredible! Your
maiden steps had faulted
to reach the vanity
of glittering heights.
How will you fill in
the blanks, blindfolded?
Sun had already gone down.
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