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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 16 october 2018

Time Crossing

When I hold the pen,
it trembles in my hand; the poem.

The catharsis.
Zero minus, to no to everything
against the main stream.
You start kinking.

Gawking?
Every night I carry my glitches
to bed, to fight my demons.
Falteringly, you speak:
it should not have happened.
The genetic aberration?

Nudges the crass exhibition
of alphabets of exorcism.
You invoke the dumb gods, who will
not vacate the accelerandos.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 15 october 2018

Solemnity

Give me a lone word.
I will write a poem.

You enter the final hour
of diagnosis. The kill
was imminent.

Back to back two trysts collide
generating a fire.

Who was peeling the moon?

The stab sets in. In
abeyance of the gift. I
will give you a scar.

Daisies will remain awake
at night, for the vigil
of a slain pilgrim.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 13 october 2018

A Scare Comes Back

I have never been the same,
after watching, the abandoned

moon, rising gracefully,
and becoming secular. There

were no words, no speech;
but a biological war had

started between the shadows,
like gondolas in the air.

You unexpectedly turn blue.
Somebody had left the bloody footprints.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 12 october 2018

Fake Arrival

Gliding on the clover
you invoke the sky.

A tiger moth lands on the―
sweet viola to seek liberation.

You die to find a rival―
to cheat the moon.

Everynight a silver bleeds
to write your name on the stone.

What you dream, does not
become your neighbour.

You give a big hearty
laugh to frighten yourself.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 11 october 2018

Fake Arrival

Gliding on the clover
you invoke the sky.

A tiger moth lands on the―
sweet viola to seek liberation.

You die to find a rival―
to cheat the moon.

Everynight a silver bleeds
to write your name on the stone.

What you dream, does not
become your neighbour.

You give a big hearty
laugh to frighten yourself.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 10 october 2018

Thousand Moons

On the rim of a beer glass,
stand, white crystals of salt.
I was watching a pale moon.

*

The lone tree always
waits for the dipping moon,
to give a parting kiss.

*

I grieve for the viola.
Why does it extend one―
petal for a landing pad.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 9 october 2018

Last Hope

When the dialogue stops
there will be a royal bleed.

I had not come to the
terms of slaughter.

Wanted now, to manage
the anguish incontinent.

Can you find some space in
waiting, for the hangman?

Footprints and invisible faces.
Somewhere a hope lives in amber.

Trapped light, in wintery dark,
will stop a seed to play the nocturne.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 8 october 2018

Scrutinizing

This jungle of words.
Fear, like a badger
comes, and sits at my door.

*
The insects, I
am tired of them. All the
time I sit under a bo tree.

*
This city was
like an ocean, full
of predator sharks.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 7 october 2018

The Futurist

Unpunctuating,
fear will slice the time,
and you will be a sitting duck
in the hands of brutal clock.

Drink, Apollo,
with round eyes and
limbless torso. He walks on
the curves, reciting mantras.

There was intrigue and blackmail
in return for not telling
the indiscretion of celibates.

A damp squib. There was lot
of hissing sound, but no
explosion. Procreatiom will
stop without fire.

Wants to return to pines.
The cones, the pricks and
swaying hips of splendid suggestion.

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 6 october 2018

Marigolds

Wanting to know about
the violence in cuckoo's nest?
Heard the first call to court a mate.
*
You are not lonely
today. Moonlight will be
there at night.

*
The dark melts to
spring a surprise.
Suddenly there are colors around.

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