Satish Verma, 1 listopada 2018
Who was the dancer of death?
You went for the kill,
and not for the killer.
The frail armistice. You
launch a drive for the drill.
It was more than what-
meets the eye. Looks like an
Armageddon. You begin in earnest
to ward off the paranoia.
Nativity was at stake. A
captive psyche fights the fading
memory. Your face goes blank.
My things and your things.
It should not have happened this way.
It should not have happened that way.
Satish Verma, 31 października 2018
The time will not heal. The
aging looks. Erotica. Each
scream ends in a dry river.
Who had the right to deliver
the needle and a silk thread?
Sometimes I will read you for
the signs of remorse. There
was this rigid wrinkle which
will not move on the face.
It will not matter if the grief
overwhelms. The scare was
real. Regurgitation. The bell
will not ring today. The pod
splits to release the seeds.
Come my mentor. I have tested
the floor, smelled the rope. The
translation should end tonight.
Satish Verma, 30 października 2018
Needing a bit less,
I wanted to discover myself.
Raise the chimney.
The house in on fire.
The door sleeps in the room.
Sun will find no corner
to sit. Can you call a cloud
to make the floor wet?
The knuckles come alive, rap
the window to stay calm. Someone
had knocked out the space
and coming in to meet the hunger.
A shrine has asked the roads
to be washed with tears of pilgrims
who had come from the faraway
hymns of darkness to script the light.
I am carrying the seeds of my
native place to find the roots.
Satish Verma, 28 października 2018
Without words, I wanted
to write a poem. Would you
read it from the moist eyes?
*
It was a strange thing.
Finding the darkness of whitemoon
in blue air.
*
The wolf was there
in the house, to
molest the moonlight.
Satish Verma, 27 października 2018
It was snowing, snowing
very hard. Hold me
tight, when the wolf comes.
*
The wolf comes in red
cloak. Why did you ask me
to pin a white rose on him?
*
There was no quiver,
no tremor. The murder was
clean, without blood. Desert ants.
Satish Verma, 26 października 2018
Like water hyacinth of lake
you cannot run away
from your psyche.
*
A separation from the
body was imminent.
Moon was calling.
*
The myth was there,
and summer, the night
opens like a medusa.
Satish Verma, 25 października 2018
At dusk, when moon was coming up
fidelity was challenged.
No soul was searched.
It was the body scarred in bright sun.
One pink petal flew over the cloud
and landed on the lake.
Will you gather the name and
send it back home?
It was a sacred gem, in the
navel of organdie, you had
worn on the night of a slaughter.
Opalescence, scolds the light,
dark was beautiful?
Satish Verma, 24 października 2018
Arising before the dawn,
to meet the earth,
your honeymoon was over with innocent.
You start becoming extinct,
with stained excuses. Naked as a belief.
There was no contradiction.
An imitation will take over,
for the surreal tomb.
A gift of rain will fill the bowl
left for Buddha, who was still sleeping
with eyes half-open.
A sage grouse begins the mating dance.
Can you speak for the scars? They
promised to remain mute.
Satish Verma, 23 października 2018
Holding the truth for the
sake of time and space.
I will not ask your name.
*
In fading moonlight
you had abducted my boat.
How will I cross the river?
*
A civil war erupts between
the flowers of morning glory.
It has changed the way you think.
Satish Verma, 22 października 2018
Tonight, come for moon watch.
I will show you the night birds.
There was an impasse to find
the missing link for peace. A story
will not end in the water. A long
border was interrupted by the
wriggling snakes.
Of flesh. I will talk about the panic now.
You were collecting the flowers
from the ashes of dehydrated body.
I am leaving the race now,
to pay the debt of death.
A pink sky starts the endless struggle
to retrieve the black sun.
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