Latest items:

poetry

poetry

all added yesterday last week month ago

register and Add poem

Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 17 april 2021

Monstrosity

What would you say―
if I shed my identity,
before the water enters the boat?

A cold-blooded,
culpable homicide, of the genius,
whom you gave your house
of cards.

Amidst the pathless windows
leading to no night
no dawn.

The ice bucket dramatics.
What message you want
to send, to thirsty small birds.

The fishermen sleep
beyond the echoes. No stones
were going to scream.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |

Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 16 april 2021

Talking Of Love

Selene, the goddess of
the moon, promises―
not to fall in love.

Putting on hold―
the shrine, the statue,
going for sale.

No epilogue was
needed, at the end
of play; it starts again.

The painter was dead,
before completing the art
of defying the end.

Walking in ruins
for love of poetry, you
wanted the feel of the beginning.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |

Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 15 april 2021

Last Journey

You wanted to be covered
with dahlias, unmeasuring―
the depth of tears.

How do I go finding
an elegy―
in dim moonlight?

En route I will pluck
the stars, in September.

And when the river goes in spate
and you are submerged,
I will spread a blanket of poetry.

Who wants the eternity
of soul. My love was very frail.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |

Renato N. Mascardo

Renato N. Mascardo, 15 april 2021

unreeling a tangled skein

may old acquaintance be forgot – or not

you
strike the match tip – suddenly

the hiss
the flash
the whiff

the splendor
captivates – like

remembrances of a love
long gone – until

the flame and now
reach and sear
you//

renato
wednesday 14 april 2021

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |

Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 14 april 2021

The Blunt Clashes

The fractured core,
a broken faith, there was
no life after death.

The colossus was drowned
in white, stunning
the men in black.

You cannot encircle
the sun-spots with
bare dogmas.

The tear's salt is found
scrapped on lips, will not
find a place to sink.

How deep you will go
in the tattoos? The sun
wanted to check in the dementia.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |

Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 13 april 2021

Dragging The Clouds

And my love, when do we talk
of wilderness
and daisy blooms?

The snakeskin―
twirls, and I watch the
wriggling night moving away.

I swallow the
empty words. They are not
heavy and no concoction.

The body and desires.
I have let then slip away,
my dreams, my knocks.

Against the dying of
blueberries in your eyes,
I will not wash the stains.

The curve of umbilicus
still remembers the dazzling
fall.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |

RENATA

RENATA, 12 april 2021

OBUCH

Wyszła za Wiesława
bo mama kazała
ze wsi do wsi
dla zdrowotności
dzieci rodzić

jak to bywa na jawie
on nie szanował jej
od tłustych świń wyzywał
jakoby nawet kijem przez szmatę
nie chciał brać
tylko się śmiać śmiać śmiać

I odszedł do kochanki
bo przecież teraz był panem
bo państwo zapłaciło
za te pola obwodnice
za jego straty rekompensaty
on pił i hazard uprawiał
chodził w złocie
i się zabawiał zabawiał

A jednak żona to nie świnia
podjęła decyzję i się odchudziła
on stary pijak nieogolony
na sali sądowej nie poznał żony
szukał swojej tłustej świni
znalazł szczupłą panią w mini

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |

RENATA

RENATA, 12 april 2021

otchłań

Myślałam że książę niebieskooki
zawirował wokół i serce zdobył
piękny narcyz ciągnie włosy me
szloch zamiera w gardle
proszę nie nie nie

Pierwszy raz uderzył trzy dni
po ślubie nikt nie uwierzył
ślady ślady ślady to lubię
powiedział tusz tusz tusz
przecież jesteś winna
zamknij się już

Nie pozwolę Ci odejść
usłyszałam i drżące kolana
przeszkodą dla stóp
łup łup łup
zemdlałam

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |

Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 12 april 2021

The Sunrise

Centrality suffers.
A poem
cries.

The kingfisher
dives
to find the depth of water.

Ready to strike
beyond― the
horizon, black hole.

With September
blues on―
my hands, I pray.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |

Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 11 april 2021

Was It Scary?

Do not measure zany,
yourself. When did you become
your pedagogue?

Around the city I am
planting the roses―
against the wishes of land mines.

Haunted by a survivalism,
somewhere the smoke
was rising. But I wanted―

to leave the fragrance
for you― and you will not
wait for the ghosts to tell,

who was the visitor. You
will not know my future and
I will not know your past.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |

10 - 30 - 100

Latest comments:

Terms of use | Privacy policy | Contact

Copyright © 2010 truml.com, by using this service you accept terms of use.