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	Satish Verma
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Satish Verma, 12 lutego 2018

Waiting In Wings

Tell me. Tonight,
when your mind goes blank,
where the smoldering words
will go?

Half-submerged is the harvest
moon. There are splotches
of clouds, but no
clear invite.

Aerial moonlight.
tells the age of tallest pine.
I will not climb the
Everest anymore.

Sky now plunges deep in
an abyss. I will embrace
the upturned terra ferma
and write a new poem.

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Satish Verma, 11 lutego 2018

The Flash Point

The double-edged truth
had the exoticism. The blood was
in air. A blue bird draws
a red line, indulging in spiritualization
of a gray design. The testosterones
chart the trajectory in the flame
of the forest.

You deploy your army in zero
hour. Colored leaves start casting
the spell. You listen to the rustling
of skirt. Moon was walking in.

A pink sword and sharpened
claws. After the vulture hit,
the death wil swoop down on you suddenly.

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Satish Verma, 10 lutego 2018

Wild Dreams

This was
a prelude to a prefix.
I want to stretch
my arms
to reach your moon.

*

Why did they had
to go,
the night,
the caper,
the moon!

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Satish Verma, 9 lutego 2018

Prelude

A deep kiss.
Deepest-ever
of exTreme love
for the death;
milky way.

*
Separating-
the numbers
from infinity.
Will you find one day
a big Zero?

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Satish Verma, 8 lutego 2018

Parsing

Read it,
or do not read
the road map.
Something has eaten into your wings.
You will not be able to fly
in the silent valley.

*

The clay gardens.
You always loved, the eccentricity.
A meltdown
refrains the sequenced
shyness. There will be
no moon tonight.

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Satish Verma, 7 lutego 2018

Ripped Apart

Looking back into
gray spring.
Would you find the images
of the constellation
of lilies?

*

What a
metamorphosis?
From a tigress to a
wounded bird, waiting
to pick up a flight.

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Satish Verma, 5 lutego 2018

Knife Into Us

Ethics of brands will find
out the anatomist,
who will rip apart the hope
from the bones.

Death will come from
underside. The sky
will remain blue even after
the murder of the moons.

The revenge at dawn
was very painful. The
crows will scatter the
light from your hands.

The mobile towers had
come to a standstill.
Sparrows had become suspicious,
left for a holy bath.

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Satish Verma, 4 lutego 2018

Logistics

Midnight encounter.
In moon, on sand.
Why you were igniting a sheltered home
of wounded pride?

The blood spills
over the sea, in boat.
You were unrelenting, against traction
violence of unhappenings.

The blackness blooms.
A man will cross midstream,
writing on water the name of a lamb
who refuses to surrender.

I sit between the
kisses of dragonflies.
An empty paper nest waits for the wandering
wasps to come back with stings.

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Satish Verma, 3 lutego 2018

Ascendancy

Seizing a chance in
a trice, in one dark September
night of apotheoses-

a bird crashed in my
lap. I would not know
the virginity of the strange surrender.

The windows were tall,
with the black laces violating
the sovereignty of light.

I will not know you, will
not call the black magic,
will not transcend the body.

The white lilies were
staring down at water.
Was the dawn nearby?

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Satish Verma, 2 lutego 2018

The Judgement

You had the numbers.
The reverse trends begins-
with uneasy and dark ambush.

A fatal miscue. You
will get the message.
The fingerprints will stay on the wall.

Enduring the onslaughts.
Remaining sky-clad I
will wander in your arms.

Fighting with the curves,
on sleepy islands, will
you hail my outstanding landing?

The revelation has a price.
You will not open the envelope
till I am dead.