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poetry
Satish Verma, 23 september 2021
A Celestial Missive
One strange movement
stops. You won't conform
an angel's thought dream.
And I will not give in to an epithet
for paradigm shift.
Unblinkingly you stare through
me weighing my
dewy eyes. They had spilled the ink
of heart. Subatomically, a mass
becomes a howl of unheard scream.
I want you for all the
pores of my consciousness. On a
blank paper you will write a betrayal
of cuckoo. The small songbird
cries in joy.
An earthern lamp burns
tirelessly. I cover the flame with
my palm to give you a handprint
of my waist.
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Satish Verma, 22 september 2021
Euphoria
Moon, eye of
night, will watch
your mandarins.
Deep orange-red?
No.I would
prefer hard cider.
Daisy has a
flair to wink―
in bright sun.
A netter on
prowl, for wingless
butterflies.
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Satish Verma, 21 september 2021
Walking Without Shadows
I will talk of human
conflicts. No one was targeted.
Like you pick up a slug―
and make a thermonuclear device.
That green-tinted sand,
olivine. I will spread―
on your path, so that you
can breath easily.
This was a tranquil treatment―
before I become dazed in
polluted air of the earth and get
a thrombus. One man lives,
other man dies.
This dirty city was growing. I
will bear the blame. I
have not stopped writing
poems daily.
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Satish Verma, 20 september 2021
Remembering An Unknown
The moon at the window
tonight, was like a dreamcatcher.
I am going to sleep in your charm.
Image builders were
becoming scarce. In your tempest
I will find my dustbath.
Amidst the sailing
swans, becoming a semi-recluse,
you wanted to write poetry.
Why don't you go back
to your home, O fairy?
Did I clip your wings?
Not for sale.How
far it was? My liberation
from the shadow of the lips?
Ashened, a fakir wanted
to give away his precious jewel
to an unknown star.
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RENATA, 19 september 2021
uzależnienie
poszłabym za Tobą i szłam szłam obok
aż zniknąłeś rozmyłeś się wypiłeś mnie
i odszedłeś zostało puste miejsce
obok Ciebie i Twojej dłoni świat ma kolory
niezapomniane a ja śpiewam i śpiewam
nadzwyczajnie głośno i głęboko
świat traci smak kolory i treść
nie chcę jeść chcę spać
gdzieś w zgniłych liściach
bo jestem dla Ciebie
bo nie ma mnie
gdy nie chcesz
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RENATA, 19 september 2021
Zamordowana królowa
ona tak kiedyś silna piękna gibka
rozwijająca talent wędkarski
wśród sępów hien i wilków zostaje
zdemaskowana niemal zjedzona
przez rekiny i piranie choć nieustannie
nadzieję ma
ona prawie postradała rozum i urodę
spadając z tronu wyimaginowanego
roztrzaskała się o rogi małżonka
łamiąc kark wszak król życzył sobie
poślubić Konstancję
Ona niekoronowana choć pierwsza
żona zostawiła potomnym bękarta
sprawiedliwość jest w ręce króla
krzyknął Ludwik wśród nienawiści
zgiń i zniknij
ona już takie przeznaczenie miała
dla kilku chwil zapomnienia i sztuk
uwodzenia męki pańskie w lochu więziennym
a tak rozpaczliwie chce żyć
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Satish Verma, 19 september 2021
Not My Angst
Tribal instinct spares none.
You change the script,
and come out to see the murmuration
of a flock of starlings.
The precision, the blend
make you wonder about the harmony
of small birds in unison,
an army moves as one body.
O man, your mathematics
has gone absurd. The sects and
cults. The zealot, the devout.
Brother, I will say unleafing must start.
More poems?
That does not work.
All the daffodils go blind.
Thousands of years go―
in making a vision.
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Satish Verma, 18 september 2021
The Eagle Swoops
Why ending your life,
on death bar,
close to terror―
of life? This is how
your dreams come true―
to play with inevitable ?
You had nothing to bleed.
One million times you
kiss on the lips of wounds.
We're all insane, chasing
the muse in dark. Earth
weeps in turn.
The walls are coming
up. What does the time tell
about the age of many tombs?
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Satish Verma, 16 september 2021
Entering Sanctum Sanctorum
A sacred lotus emerges
from the navel, while you rest
on trembling waves. I am shedding
my leaves.
The knotty hole. Center
of the earth. A shell
breaks inaudibly in the churning pot.
The pledged promise was
deep. Pole's red aurorae stream
in new birth.
Was it necessary to take
an oath under the bo tree―
to become a sacred Buddha?
It sucks. Fake or genuine?
I am searching the faces of whites,
browns and blacks. Who
wants to be buried in a nameless
grave of a soldier?
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Satish Verma, 14 september 2021
In Upheaval...
This was the rise of animal
after dividing
the pain of man.
The shared past―
would guide the misreading,
calling bloodbath a mistake.
Balancing the pole, walking
on long rope, in sheer
darkness of moonless night.
The words fall on your
feet, begging the exoneration
from name-calling.
Square meals and two lipped
lavenders, will bring the aroma
to wipe out nonexistence.
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Satish Verma, 13 september 2021
Without Fetters
He was not at guilt,
it was the neuro―
hormones, hired from moon.
You were burning
inside, smokeless
without flames.
I throw the net―
in lake to catch,
the moon for once.
The day was ready
to close the eyes―
to practice philanthropy.
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Satish Verma, 12 september 2021
Repeating Again
Not a single word was
written today, watching
the masks being perfected.
A nosedive, of what
I built without mercury,
without threads.
Sitting on a black
stone, wishing moon a
mist bath of absolute.
It again aches, my
roving heart, trying to
knit the harmony in black and white.
number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |
Satish Verma, 11 september 2021
Behind The Glass
I will write a very
soft poem for you today.
Moon had promised
to standby.
You cannot stay outside
your lips. They were frozen.
I will trap a ray of light
when you fall in a pit.
Such aplomb. I must
give you a gift of an Ariel.
Come equinox, I will wait
for the harvest moon.
The pure hymns. I
turn my gold ring for a miracle.
The scars were singing again.
Out of reach, a star winks.
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Satish Verma, 10 september 2021
Not Ready To Forget
Very scary, I admit―
your vintage―
lovemaking with
a ghost.
Life in a crate was
creating nonpoems.
Water on the ice moon
was never there.
Unmasked you shoot a
songbird in flight.
The soft music went into
the barrel of the gun.
Come and meet my other
self. My penchant for talking
to flowers has made
me a martyr.
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Satish Verma, 9 september 2021
He Did Not Return
It was not a jubilee,
but I had come to pay my debt.
Stepping gingerly in your
father's study, you open the almirah.
No I am not afraid.
I have come to visit my father.
The hurt has not destroyed me completely.
Days were numbed like by vespa stings― with
burning, swelling and soreness.
I slide the clothes. In
deeper layer a plastic pack appears. on the
bed of dried rose petals,
sits a singed, brown vertebra―
collected after his funeral.
My talisman. I touch it.
Turn around―
don't look back
and walk away.
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Satish Verma, 8 september 2021
Coming Near You
Like a walking fern, you were.
I was talking to you. Why
would you nose down to touch
my landscape and fall into my arms?
To protect you, I was
making a massive wall― encouraging
the revivalism. Predator
drones were intending to follow you.
The dirt― it will not
stain your innocence. Don't
stand on the ledge. Faceless
winds can topple you at night.
We are beasts, with no space
in between. Like sardines you
are packed without names. The
sea has dried up. How far
was the sun?
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Satish Verma, 7 september 2021
Violent Shaking
Colored truth,
becomes a hot balloon
in denial mode.
For your own―
relevance, negativity will
not accept the defeat.
Between the stars,
anger erupts―
to reorient the gaffe.
Outrage and despair
are writ large
on the face of non-white moon.
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Morgan, 6 september 2021
Moth To Flame
Moth To flame:
'Some other time.
I'm going home
Thanks all the same.'
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Satish Verma, 6 september 2021
Unbendingly
You went tounveil your own
statue, before being shot―
dead, for telling the fiction.
Day was stranger than
night. You can discern
the oblique faces.
Handcuffed, you pick up
the pen, to rewrite the name
of omniabsent divine.
Trivial rise of surface
temperature will melt
the snow-clad breasts.
A clove-scented pink―
in the hands of a butcher
does not bring a smile.
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Satish Verma, 5 september 2021
Life In Dewdrops
In unblemished irish,
the vision was a link
in blankness of thoughts, when
I was weaving a dream
around you.
Your cameo appearance
in flurry of tears,
rips apart my landscape.
The other moon wails behind the clouds.
In androgynous past,
you want to separate the sandwoods.
Death comes as a long sleep.
Your thick braid moves
like a reptile.
I have stopped scripting
the letters. Words float on the
carpeted domes.
Rains would not come tonight.
number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |
Satish Verma, 3 september 2021
Elusive Answers
Constrained.
The starlings will
not fly today.
There was a hole
in the sky.
The god particles will fall.
Drawing out
the blood of fallen―
angles, on the street.
Can you count
the sins of man?
We still celebrate the hate.
number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |
Satish Verma, 2 september 2021
The Explosion
I sleep, I wake
for a vigil.
What was time?
The godhood
fails, when you
become a beast.
The thick cloud
of sulphur,
after the blast―
rains limbs. To
meet god, this
was so easy?
number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |
Satish Verma, 1 september 2021
Be Deceived
Living a death daily,
becomes a normal chore. It was an intense
realization about the ephimerality
of words, the message appearing,
import dying.
The sparks in your eyes
ignite the earth,
without defiling the blue sky.
It was most elemental.
Walking, chatting
green flames― convey a denial
of condensed thoughts. No
milky way. Farewell to tears.
Until you come, the stars,
the moon will not brighten my
kingdom. A peeled off enigma
still prevails.
There was no daymare.
number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |
Satish Verma, 31 august 2021
The Nightmares
Like Sequoia,
you wanted to grow tall.
But fear of fall
and right to die
become two opposite poles.
Keeping the death
alive, you turn psycho―
magnifying the departure.
And desires reflect scars.
The dreams fall
like ninepins.
The sheep, the lamp, the
snow, you forget,
where you wanted to go.
number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |
Satish Verma, 30 august 2021
Dying Flames
When white mushrooms
come in procession
after the rains,
you bring back my ache―
O pink rose
words fall like birds.
Caparisoned, the
moon was rising from
the sand dunes, like a
camel after the festival of kiss
of love. The singed bank
of the lake was submerged in tears.
Fold your wings, O peacock,
clouds are going back home.
number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |
Satish Verma, 29 august 2021
Very Discreetly
Tonight moon was
gliding like a swan,
white and graceful.
But you slept on my hand
like a skylark.
Your eyes lit up
when I squeezed a verse.
Do I need to tell you
that fireflies had gone mad
after striking you?
And the weird thing was,
Aurora blushed after running into dark.
To catch your shadow,
time stood still, until
the sun passed away.
number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |
Satish Verma, 28 august 2021
Ennui
In a frame of a―
window, I watch
daily, a saddest,
star, and a palm
holding the clouds
like an Atlas.
No winds. The
bougainvillea still
drops the colored bracts―
in wait of moon―
unheeding the advice
of bright sun.
number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |
Satish Verma, 27 august 2021
The Final Retreat
In reality― you were
in a ring of fire. I had been
left with no claim on you.
Your failure had become mine.
This was not the game―
changer. Moon had latched
on the watery eyes. Synapsis
had started to break away.
The god wears different
apparels― as per the need of the
occasion. Nobody is going to say,
rest in peace.
Gradually I will stop
speaking about myself. When
my time comes, I will lose everything
and set you free.
The blind eagle will find its abode.
number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |
Satish Verma, 26 august 2021
The Fugitive
Bending the gravity
you start falling upward.
There was―
no distinction between earth and sky.
Unsaid thoughts without words
blend. A sign language conveying
the ageless twinge
of a faceless spirit.
Against the outrage of morals,
flatness becomes deep. The
quality suffers. Inception
invites the crime.
Strange things happen. Man
becomes a fireball, torching
the domes, shrines and littering
the streets with newborns.
number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |
Satish Verma, 25 august 2021
Self-Portrait
Life inside the doors―
mocks the nature.
Still life. Cup and Vase.
You lived for others
and died for me.
I become homeless.
In charity, the body
becomes water.
Gold sinks.
Very precious for me.
The hurts―
you gave me unasked.
number of comments: 0 | rating: 0/0 | detail |
Latest comments:
23 september 2021
Faber
Przemówił, tylko teraz weź to a przy okazji
23 september 2021
jeśli tylko
jak awers i rewers..
23 september 2021
Grain
na odwrót albo tak samo
23 september 2021
etykiet teraz nawet więcej niż etykietek..
23 september 2021
długo bałam się posadzić róże, że nie
23 september 2021
L. Aragon - a róże wzdłuż całego szlaku
23 september 2021
not quite really..
23 september 2021
Weronika
Abstract portrait.
22 september 2021
ścięłąbym trochę dołu..
22 september 2021
:)
22 september 2021
Etykietki nie takie ważne ; ).
22 september 2021
nigdy nie wielbiłam przerzutni, choć czasem
23 september 2021
Satish Verma
22 september 2021
wiesiek
22 september 2021
Satish Verma
21 september 2021
wiesiek
21 september 2021
Satish Verma
20 september 2021
wiesiek
20 september 2021
Satish Verma
19 september 2021
kalik
19 september 2021
RENATA
19 september 2021
RENATA