Najnowsze prace:

Poezja

	Satish Verma
	PROFIL O autorze Przyjaciele (3) Poezja (3973)

najnowsze najwyżej punktowane najczęściej komentowane

Satish Verma, 31 lipca 2013

FUGITIVE SWAN

a moonache levitates
on blue lake
you shot me at close range

predictable encounter
the whole truth had plunged
between two eyes

self flagellation
of the waves on beach
i was walking on marigolds

your body becomes a flute
when i was writing an epilogue
on the life of a gold leaf

it was raining on the rose
like gnawing illicit drops
on the upper lip of a virgin

Satish Verma

liczba komentarzy: 0 | punkty: 0 | szczegóły

Satish Verma, 30 lipca 2013

PURSUIT

the solid rock,
from its tallest perch
was tumbling down, after navel – gazing –
in songs of darkness; had the hidden
aloofness in space and time,

i have become a tree, intend to teach
the truth of roots; eating the body
of gods, one prayer changes the fright

of depth, meanwhile you become the ethnic wait

in sprawling riots, the inside of ire was
very red; screams, bends, shakes, takes away
emotional blackmail, hairs standing like

candles burning, the conditioning was over –

in granite falls, it was rain of tears on
flames of freedom at the street, a crowd
becomes a large leaf swaying on the waves of a red
river, flowing sensuously in a young city

Satish Verma

liczba komentarzy: 0 | punkty: 0 | szczegóły

Satish Verma, 29 lipca 2013

BOLD STEP

Night enters into the drift.
I get through a fossil, quite beyond
the light, a search begins for a tortured
being in some ideal's mire.

The battle begins, of fears and doubts
and upon the trampled sun-blind truths
of past in dry desert of hungry sands
where the veined clot rises to the lung of moon.

Revival of black magic takes place, marking
the boundaries of denial, you will not cross
the line of fire, till the shade between evil
and good was obliterated and sins become
bones of dreams.

Will you wait on the gate, till eternity
accepts you as a forgotten child of
wronged parents? I shall start calling
the names of innocent bystanders.

Satish Verma

liczba komentarzy: 0 | punkty: 0 | szczegóły

Satish Verma, 28 lipca 2013

FLAMES OF SONG

Tonight moon will write a poem
on my hand
about an almond love.
I find a breeze.

Nightmare: I was caught stealing words
from your lips, a lark
flies into death, paralyzed
by peace!

I will have the baby, I cried
at the insult to a rape
of truth, after the brawl
Pyramid was not made in a day.

Who slept in the arms of ambers?
Look, it was an atomic illusion of a guilt
of centuries. Time walks with bowed head
like a blind man.

Baked brown in heat of wars like
a salted pistachio, perched high on dry
grass, a swallow watches the rising
lake with no stones floating.

Satish Verma

liczba komentarzy: 0 | punkty: 1 | szczegóły

Satish Verma, 27 lipca 2013

BLOODSCAPE

Monologue of a monolith
to live in a moment
was futile. A young house was in disorder.
Not listening, I would find the missing links.
Grey ash to be smeared on forehead in horizontal
lines for shifting the planets.

The age creeps quietly, irremediably poor,
unchanged in hysteria: after hysterectomy
the womb lies in dirt. Ethnic violence will fill
the carts of mutilated bodies, move to market,
selling the rage. Be in today, or tomorrow,
the blood brings honour.

Do not complain of weather, these arthritic
fingers, crooked toes, you will end on a cliff
after the logic of war fails. A bald year
moves, untrusting the noble men, I ascend
a coin to find the circa of topless democracies
destroying the pillars of feet.

Satish Verma

liczba komentarzy: 0 | punkty: 0 | szczegóły

Satish Verma, 26 lipca 2013

BLOOD DRAPED

It was coming up, the politics
like dirty sex
in tall Parthenium grass.

The panther was hiding on a steppingstone
watching the hot, field hockey
played with skulls of peers.

Mauled, the peach skin was
entertaining sunlight in
the metaphoric village.

Prisoners of false ceilings,
we sing the anthem with
the crowd of wolves.

Satish Verma

liczba komentarzy: 0 | punkty: 0 | szczegóły

Satish Verma, 25 lipca 2013

A CENTRIOLUM

Never in those sizzling conflicts
displaying the pink eyes
you were able to reach me.
Was it metagenesis,
forgetting your selfhood?

Fragments of a beast were floating on sea.
Was umblicus of death broken
in the crotch of a mother?
Lay the corn again on my palm
to smoulder in the heat of sun.
Hunger will take revenge now.

Burn, burn my truth, burn!
I was the creator,
and I was destroyer
at the helm of unbuttoning coal.

It was a black, black sky,
where the stars were hesitant to show their
centrioles.

After the sun rises in a black dawn
there will be no shocks.

Satish Verma

liczba komentarzy: 0 | punkty: 0 | szczegóły

Satish Verma, 24 lipca 2013

DEATH'S REVERSAL

Coming to cephalic withdrawl,
sharing a deadly delusion,
O my world -
I will not ask,
I will not take back.
For my own liberation, I will set you free.

I am reversing myself,
my battles are still raging.
The flames have reached the tallest branches,
naked in sky:
Verga, why the drops are not going to come down?

Going alone in the woods,
to find the skeletons, in the shades of grief,
a deathless comp of apostates,
to start a revolution, we become
carpenters, carving totems.

The question marks are increasing
in wrinkles. On the shoulders of a lone tree
a black bird sings to an old moon.
Are there any worlds beyond the stars?

Inspired by a poem of famous urdu poet Allama Iqbal

ABHI ISHQ KE IMTIHAN AUR BHE HAIN
SITARON KE AAGAI JAHAN AUR BHE HAIN

Satish Verma

liczba komentarzy: 0 | punkty: 0 | szczegóły

Satish Verma, 22 lipca 2013

INDOORS

Today,
small things ask some uncomfortable
questions. I enter the eye of a wound.

Unscathed, will i obey the law
of believing; the round mirror?
It reflects the absolute truth?

Consolations,
they begin the attack in the valley
of thoughts; words, were hung
over the paper, spill the ink

like blood on the street.
Who will lift the corpse?

Words on the wings;
let them drop
like stones, like knives. The flesh is raw,
bones white a century is going to sing.

Satish Verma

liczba komentarzy: 0 | punkty: 0 | szczegóły

Satish Verma, 21 lipca 2013

A DAY OF COUNTING

You gave it
when you were poor.
Today I went to unwrap the gift.
The soul! Ripping out from the body
to deconstruct my vernacular pain.

Pulling off the toenails to extract a promise.
Feet first; the birth of a child to die sooner in the crib.
My brother, tell me, do you understand
my imperishable grief.

For a future's peace
sing my poem, sing ascendancy.
For laughing skulls in a killing field,
ideation will become a routine talk.

Give me a hand, brother,
am I insane?
Becoming teeth of wisdom was a crime?

Satish Verma