Satish Verma, 20 lipca 2013
hopscotch, retrieve a pebble
from the lake,
sitting under a tall tree
i will wait
for leaves to fall
on water;
i will see through my seeds
a relief of roses,
overnight
in the soccer field
tiny mushrooms
popped up, wearing white caps
to see the game-
turning the pages of a book
opens a museum,
i come on you
not accusative
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 19 lipca 2013
Lips tremble
like sentinels
when legs burn like candles
whole night,
in the pocket a grenade explodes;
a girl gets raped in broad day light
to receive a compensation
under a leaky roof of frozen hunger:
the emptiness in bed
stirs a grain, a deemed birth of catastrophe
one classical tragedy begins
a lighthouse shuts when the ship sinks,
let us go on the bank to find the needles-
to start a dialogue with the moon,
when the tide comes
it will throw some heroes
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 18 lipca 2013
Again I scare myself
of the very thing.
Moon was landing on lake
for inward probe.
One presaged silence,
speaks, of the veracity of lovers
to grass, where no dropp drives a sun,
the red bricks build a shade.
Ragweed in a daisy field:
Ambrosia, I will not taste you
till the rainbow sits
in the meadow.
Round eyes
keep the dawn hidden /
under the lashes, sleep my saint
for a while, door was waiting for a knock.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 17 lipca 2013
take back your smile,
the fish has died in my hands;
nowhere you have touched me
deep in the brutal corona of a black moon -
my sun spots were waning:
a hole in the wind, chased
adulthood of man for a frozen
infantile mutancy
something stopped you
to discover yourself in the rage:
what was it? I am refusing to believe
something between the unbuttoned
golden flesh of a mummy,
the old version dies hard, fear escapes
from amygdalae,
in mourning, comes the rainbow
of pain, the rain lashing on window
i am melting inside a cast
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 16 lipca 2013
Blood and bones
become qualification
watching and being watched.
Eyes in introspection
incubation
waking the black dawn.
Anguished
blank stares, after dispossession
collapse on the hills in confusion-
umpteen times. Ontogeny
repeats filial love
after parental loss.
Monofloral we stay,
you cannot do anything
except to collect the honey.
Shot in the face, my name.
The next tragedy
begins at home!
Break the cutlery
there is no water,
frogs will not jump today.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 15 lipca 2013
like ether, permeating all space
mesmerizing,
he walked away, head of his enemy
in his hand,
like a trophy?
frighteningly orangish
a decapitated body shudders.
The holy war
demands its price of a joke.
The face of red and blue.
A terrible reminder of a snaky past
that kills the puppets. The hands
dance in air.
The irrepairable, pink wounds
bleed, sweat smoke
of death?
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 15 lipca 2013
like ether, permeating all space
mesmerizing,
he walked away, head of his enemy
in his hand,
like a trophy?
frighteningly orangish
a decapitated body shudders.
The holy war
demands its price of a joke.
The face of red and blue.
A terrible reminder of a snaky past
that kills the puppets. The hands
dance in air.
The irrepairable, pink wounds
bleed, sweat smoke
of death?
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 14 lipca 2013
Do not stoke the desires tonight,
my moon is away on the cusp of doubts.
Count you must the needles in heart, of
ifs and buts? A fragile truce was anathema
to me. The nagging day lies ahead-
of my failing gifts. Living was a whispering
silence, no secrets had a spite for you.
A fine drizzle of thoughts fills the lungs,
mind cries for the space to arrange
the corpses of dreams.
The uncertainties take a heavy toll.
A new voice precedes a wet moon,
the sun was rising late today, living apart.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 13 lipca 2013
coming out of the frame,
in evening without a sun, unflinchingly,
he said, he was talking to his father
daily, in his mind, who was in grave,
(when he was on ventilator)
about a lesson of deception, about the things
evolved in endogamy,
cherubic, it seems, but there was water on the moon too,
in solitude, on gravel, under the rocks;
he kept on washing his hands for hours,
to remove the dirt and stigma, gathered on shaking
the lamps around the dark and then he started
collecting the flowers from the embroidery
of clouds
do not cry in the afternoon
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 11 lipca 2013
The depression,
human brand was trapped.
They were talking about
the nukes.
To annihilate
the earth. It was elemental,
I said. An ardent
fan of moon.
A lark asks
who will survive?
Satish Verma
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