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Satish Verma, 31 grudnia 2019
Wounded And Alive
In search of wholeness,
the words sit around me
cutting the edge of the corn ear.
A new shibboleth, will
announce the arrival of
a bloody tribe.
In this life cycle, I
will meet you, to kidnap
a Pir for remaining silent.
Who was on the road
to give a sane advice
to the waning roses?
It was not poemtime.
The kids were bleeding
from the barbs of unknown.
Satish Verma, 1 stycznia 2020
Too Crowded Was Arena
I felt you, through your
words. Tight and
crisp. But you remained untouchable.
For thousand of years
a lity of valley
cried, to get a dove's cooing voice.
The musk deer will not
leave its domain. Some
poems were hungery of its hideout.
An ordinary day of fall
starts the inferno. Syllable
by syllable in colors.
The dilemma of drinking
the hemlock at one go.
How would I describe the ascending paralysis?
Satish Verma, 2 stycznia 2020
Uninviting Destiny
I would not understand
your fabric, when you come
wearing only smile.
The politics of life was beyond
my poetry. I only have the words
as my wealth. No other assets.
I wanted more space
between the black holes. My earth
needs a rebirth. I am very lonely.
Poison poems. You always
sparred with a family of weighting
heights, which could not touch the sky.
A series of serial killers,
were ready to begin the assault
on the tossing daffodils, deaf, dumb and blind.
Satish Verma, 3 stycznia 2020
Crumbling Down
Can you understand
the agony of a titan, which
cannot afford to show its fall?
Missing the defeat―
no one was victorious.
Battle cry was a phantom.
The questions, that were
fluttering in a storm―
had become the sufi fakirs.
It was a dirty stricture.
The colors had stopped flowing.
Even the death has lost its terror.
Satish Verma, 4 stycznia 2020
Many Shades
The brown rice were
not yet ready.
An old man turns in grave.
*
The thingness
was shapeless in dark
Like a sleeping Buddha.
*
Once I told a lie.
The snow started melting
releasing methane.
Satish Verma, 5 stycznia 2020
Unthreading
It was a damp kiss
of an image.
Dispassionately you drop
an old coin into my hands.
Faithless in your poem.
I adored the Venus in twilight.
Carnation. A rose pink color,
appears in your eyes.
Rising from the marshy
slush, greater flamingos
keep watch underneath, at the
army of urns.
The sameness now dithers.
You want to weave the moon
in your breast, unpreparing
to open the heart.
Satish Verma, 9 stycznia 2020
Without Destination
You come to me like
a fall.
All the colors have arrived.
The being, an entity―
multiplies. For now,
in past, in future.
A will not move away very far
from the dots.
A tangent will lead you to me.
Satish Verma, 9 stycznia 2020
Broken Armour
I hear your voice
coming from within.
The disconnect, the cultural clash,
from river,
from tree,
from the golden nest.
The circle was complete,
breech birth,
the explicit insult.
The parched moon―
will bring the cold
tears, to extinguish the sparks
going home.
The roadway leads
to nowhere land. You will
again meet the wounded
cuckoo which will always sing
the hurts.
Satish Verma, 10 stycznia 2020
Bitter Sweet
Autumn was round
the corner. I was preparing
for the fall.
The great wall
is crumbling. Will you
come for reunion?
Thea leaves,
I am ripening for you in sun.
Come like the moon's milk.
Satish Verma, 11 stycznia 2020
A Death's Kiss
Sometimes I do not
want to be talked about.
Like the setting sun.
The earthworm was busy
in turning the soil,
printing the seed's path.
I had removed, from
the house, all the clocks.
I wanted the time, to stand still.
My moment has not come.
In aloneness I will
find you in my shut eyes.
The dark night swims
once again, on the sea
to reach the boat.
You lay down your head on
the oars and go to long sleep.
Satish Verma, 13 stycznia 2020
The Reverie
It was devastating.
Out of boredom, drops in
the moon, in the month October.
Hanging over a palm,
to shake hand with a
lone survivor,
a firefly.
A silvery silence
explodes in you face, before
you write a simple word
on the golden leaf.
And I must undo
the locks of complex, winged
life, which will not set―
me free from the funeral
pain. I am going to
meet myself, beyond you.
Satish Verma, 14 stycznia 2020
Standing In Fog
A diminutive moon
will ask about the infinity
of blackness, when I
was waiting in November night
of a toothed fall
in a missing success.
Ahead of time, you
punch the wailing trunk
of the fallen tree. I had the taste
of honey, but who am I,
a giver of anonymity?
Withering in a fire house
without door. I have come back
to know my ancestory. This
was my home once, in the
ancient history of man. This
was the gift, this was the dawn.
Satish Verma, 15 stycznia 2020
The Immaculate Descent
The God refuses to accept
the infant universe.
After the elusive cues, there were
antique radiations to prove
that there was a diplomatic suicide.
A bit of grass,
some moon, little water
of eyes, the eternal embrace and
life starts earnestly in the
qualms of terror.
Washed out on the shores, comes
the body of liberty. The blood caked
limbs will tell you the tale
of tribal instinct, of mankind to
destroy the self, the
vessel and the sea.
Satish Verma, 16 stycznia 2020
White Lies
It was a glass house.
A burning boat capsizes
in milk body, creating
a schism.
Relentlessly, a classical theme
was furloughed. I
refuse to sell,
sell anything.
A deemed thought is
nurtured, hiring the
tall grasses, to hide
the kill. I am writing―
a poem of falling leaves
to eat the huge steps
of a giant, who started
the blood time.
Satish Verma, 17 stycznia 2020
Skipping The Steps
A tree waits to hug me
after shedding the
leaves. The man
becomes a child, entwining
the snaking trunk
for a brush with infinity.
The supreme dedication
become humane, enough
to kill the non-man.
A lethal mix of
parodies brings a comic
relief to sparring partners.
After all you discover
the white fog, god-made
to unlisten the lyrics.
Satish Verma, 20 stycznia 2020
Naked As Ice
Howling wind!
Why were you gathering the―
dead leaves, sweeping
the desolate white road?
A bleak and dismal emptiness
in-between, the
no man's land.
Thousand eyes watch the tiny flurries.
The perfect peace,
descends.
From moon's navel,
falls the golden bloom.
Satish Verma, 21 stycznia 2020
Reminiscing
I catch the sadness
of gray woods. Stone by
stone, gathering the twilight
of fall.
Would you walk with me,
my fallen peaks,
to witness the cold and wet
dark?
A deep silence sings
in my inside. I scoop
out the golden hole of
pain.
The endless pathway,
where, you will find my
immortal verse kissing the
white snow.
Satish Verma, 22 stycznia 2020
Feeding The Past
I take me,
in the whirlpool of bridges
for a nonprofit.
Gathering on rocks
begins. Moonlight reads
quickly, the faces.
I would not give you
my speech, my blindness.
Become mute like the call of
a mountain.
A broken cry will save
the poetry, the river,
the sea.
An old adage brings
the solace.
Somewhere a truth sings.
Satish Verma, 23 stycznia 2020
16th December 2013
Leaning against the shadow
of self, starting the
monologue. With the fall
I don't want to think of the other.
The beasts.
I give a call, to someone
over there,
who will listen.
A systematic peel, opens
the doorless cage and
sets free the malignancy―
to spread. Now multiple argan
failure, stares at you,
celebrating the anniversary
of the rape.
We are made up of
charcoal, writing on the walls
with dark fingers―
name of the victim.
Satish Verma, 24 stycznia 2020
Sparkling
Moon in dying
on the icy bridge
as I stand in fog to hear the music
of hung verdict you are
not playing the carnal game
a threadbare dawn
still waits
for the liquid sun,
the moosewood is going to start a striptease
Satish Verma, 25 stycznia 2020
Winter Night
It was never meant,
to be the triumph
of the death
in the night of the snowfall.
The silent fall of flakes,
covering the stains,
would start a conversation
about the truth of life.
A journey to unknow the evil starts.
Satish Verma, 26 stycznia 2020
An Acrimonious Dialogue
The ambrosial ending
of the day. I was not sure
of myself. How would the
thumb mould the pen
in internal search
of cavities?
You are not going to live
hundred years. Falling from
the terrace, with a thud,
lying in the pool of blood, till you
find the celibate truth?
Between the dust and dawn
lies the dark. The oesophageal
reflux makes a hole
in each eye. Can you
read in the thick fog
of absent faces?
Satish Verma, 1 lutego 2020
Ultimate Tongue
In praise of body
like a bow,
shooting arrows of clemency.
But I have come to deny myself,
the nemesis.
There was no penitence.
Unacceptable, in the light of
broad-day murder
of democracy.
Freedom to arc was a personal
style, writing poetry
against the art
of manipulation.
I am ready to become
human, after inferno, started
by you, to burn
the story.
Satish Verma, 4 lutego 2020
Avoiding The Virtue
In moments of hubris,
of artificial hip,
the most unknowable thing was
the blood thought.
An invisible ink, of late
marks the error
of autumn. A lone survivor
of leaves of time, would not
break the word.
The donated eyes will not
see the dreams. You can
boil the bones to get the truth.
Somewhere a guilt prospers.
It is what you don't think.
Satish Verma, 5 lutego 2020
Unbecoming Of The Poem
The fat moon
rises, when the bland earth
gives a call.
Like the black magic
of depression, in fall,
overwhelming the silence.
Of not becoming, what
you wished me to be,
or not to be.
A conflict always,
climbs the wall to overlook,
the pain of separation.
This winter, I am not
going to witness, the death
of night birds.
Satish Verma, 6 lutego 2020
Reviving The Schism
A mentalist does not feel
secure, when you start
jaywalking in the empty street.
What was the need to
rescue a predator, when
the river was dry?
The ducks were crossing
the road. Stay put, till
the kids want to make a halt.
It was a renaissance
connection, when a clan is
sentenced to speak softly.
Satish Verma, 7 lutego 2020
Nobody Can Say
Wearing raw beef,
speaking Buddha,
it was real time in dystopia.
I was wondering,
how to cheat life.
Crypts were empty.
Think, keep quite,
I would say, watching
the river go by.
The feral look, will
teach you suffer. There
was no ending.
Half-bird, half-mount―
You carry the burden
of undoing nemesis.
Satish Verma, 8 lutego 2020
Lynx-Eyed
The long tentacles return
to gather you,
in clawless loops.
What do you see in the godless
domain of winged
colts?
The colossus had
glaring flaws. Binary
curse falls like a barrel-bomb.
I remained oblivious
of the uncorrupted dawn,
rising from the ruins of fallen saints.
I am standing on the
grey rock, where black and
white meet. Time becomes a moment.
Satish Verma, 9 lutego 2020
Once Again
I hear again your voice
after injury pause.
An apologia.
It is still kempt,
the mist scented, milk bath
by moon, in dark.
In legendary night, everything was legitimate.
The licit kiss of death too.
One by one the faces
were missing. The snake bites,
of love.
The embroidered memories are
hanged to dry up in rain.
The eyes like moths, flicker around
the dark candle of another childhood.
Satish Verma, 11 lutego 2020
Au Revoir
Skin deep, the moon
goes with me,
to bid goodbye to old year.
I have moved nearer
to the door knob,
of the unopened crypt.
The stale air leaks from the crumbling door.
The unfinished books
are under the frost. I cannot
shovel the walk. A grainy
picture emerges, of despair.
Going to dig up the ruins
to find the script.
Ink spills on the paper,
words depart.
Ostatnie komentarze:
18 lipca 2025
Jaga
Stare zdejmujemy, nowych nie zamawiamy.
18 lipca 2025
Słońce czyni cuda w włoskami ;))
18 lipca 2025
Dziękuję :)
18 lipca 2025
Niejeden taki.
18 lipca 2025
Weronika
Barszczem.
17 lipca 2025
sam53
przychodzi codziennie... bez zaproszenia... pcha
16 lipca 2025
Właśnie na kręgosłup, to najpopularniejszy
16 lipca 2025
jeśli tylko
Może zależy pod schorzenia. Na kręgosłup
16 lipca 2025
między czwartą a piątą.. ;)
16 lipca 2025
To zależy od województwa. Wcześniej u nas,
16 lipca 2025
na przydział, bo bo wniosek o sanatorium złożony
16 lipca 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
męskie są?
18 lipca 2025
wiesiek
18 lipca 2025
Kreton
17 lipca 2025
wiesiek
16 lipca 2025
wiesiek
16 lipca 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
15 lipca 2025
wiesiek
15 lipca 2025
sam53
14 lipca 2025
jeśli tylko
14 lipca 2025
Bernadetta
14 lipca 2025
wiesiek