Satish Verma, 29 października 2021
Not scared by stings
I will carry you in river to―
put you behind sun.
The maple has shed the
red leaves one by one in row,
as prayers for you.
Why would the snow skip
the road, where you stood midway
to stop the whirlwind?
Satish Verma, 28 października 2021
For image breaking
I exile myself
for one half-god
to lick my scars.
I have not touched
you even for ages―
in words.
The door knobs remained unturned.
I let go the dust. Time
was not ripe for me.
Still I have to
find my eternal muse.
I will strive, will
look around, to smell your―
presence. A warrior
always waits for the graceful exit.
Satish Verma, 27 października 2021
Cause of things―
finding in myself in solitary
manner, reaping
the harvest of failures.
The ghost of a town
roils under the protests.
Nobody knows the ―
length of suffering.
Me and my god―
we are one. Nobody else
was entitled to live.
The half-burnt bodies,
making a crowd at the bank
of a holy river. At least they
were not shot in the head.
Reasons were flawless.
Fallacy was truth.
Satish Verma, 26 października 2021
Yearning to reach you
like out of body experience.
Dreams will not agree.
He was stunned when
you disappeared in flames.
Was this a protest?
Reincarnation?
I will wait until the death
of the Super moon.
Satish Verma, 25 października 2021
The moment of truth
for a flower seller.
Sun will not rise today.
Learning the―
alphabets of violence.
I would not bet on you.
At nude beach
I was wearing the moon
in pitch dark.
Silently weeping
a prophet today asks
for the mercy of dead.
Satish Verma, 24 października 2021
Fear is on rise.
How long would you live with that?
Terrible questions bring
arousal bouts.
The days are demanding
answers from the red noses.
Like patato peels
you were wrinkling.
The burning moths.
How do they smell? Young
beautiful faces wearing explosive skirts.
Evening fever. You must
be rooted not, to listen to―
the call of desecrating the comic book.
Satish Verma, 23 października 2021
Nudging the contempt,
he wanted to become
homeless again.
I had never seen
such human insanity.
Hate me now―
I was your sin.
You made it easy,
making my nest empty.
There was a colossal waste.
The salt was
becoming scarce. Night and
moon were going to break
the hills.
The cost of life
was falling. Diana― the huntress
will not shoot any arrows.
Artemisia was no more sacred.
Satish Verma, 22 października 2021
A fear stalks you
in the dead city of broken paths.
If god wills.
Listening to truth in golden dawn
you become a stranger.
Where you want to stand
between far-right
and far-left?
I relapse into grief.
Who was not a god….?
Between you and me
what was missing?
Brotherhood?
The silence was heavily
pregnant. No one speaks.
Give me a chance
to look at me.
Satish Verma, 21 października 2021
You wanted to possess me
and I sought to
drink the stars.
An optics? Tears and
blood. Lynching. I
ask the moon, have
you ever been kissed?
You hold my hands
and laugh, heartily,
throwing back your thick, black
interlaced braid.
The radical, retrograde…
white space in between, I
watch the falling snow, covering
my thoughts with silverberries.
This was the unspoken,
untying love between a mortal
and a celestial being!
Satish Verma, 20 października 2021
Trying to face fiction,
poetry was falling apart
between the glasses.
Telltale signs betray
ghostwalking of the black stones.
Sculptor coming up.
Moonrise will decide the
fate of lovers. Nobody was
ready to tie the knot.
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