RENATA, 18 december 2020
Lgnęli do siebie
w pościeli
czując się jak w niebie
chcieli
dalej brnąć
w pocałunków moc
magia dotyku
gdzie skóra drży
TY TY TY
Na czuły szept
emocji jęk
termometr pęka
gorączka jest
dreszcz dreszcz dreszcz
dostaję olśnienia
z Tobą na księżyc
wybieram
się
Satish Verma, 17 december 2020
Understanding-
the sexuality
of clock.
Time moves
the hands, of past,
the present.
The future
belongs to no one.
This poem, cosmos.
Satish Verma, 16 december 2020
A near cult glows/ on faces-
for harvesting peace,
saluting each other, without flame.
I have come so far
though you did not want the winds to move.
A new theme was
developing. The first wicket has fallen.
The collective suicide
will follow.
Invoking the sun, you stay in shadows,
without qualms to hear
the swish of swords.
The phenomenalist,
strides confidingly to read your mind.
Heart cries-
Uncontrollably.
Satish Verma, 15 december 2020
No it will not work.
The amalgam of arrival
and departure.
Debunking the theme
of reincarnation, you enter into the body of a poem.
Crowned and faded out,
all the icons were diminishing
in stature.A winter bath
tries to hold the halo-
for sometime, and then disappears
in obscurity.
Where the things go wrong
and connectivity snaps?
The tall people, yes very tall,
crumble under the weight of anonymity.
When you climbed down from
the pedestal, light was dim.
Did you ever receive a blast in face?
Satish Verma, 14 december 2020
The tall, dense, tree of life
divides the culture, ages.
Will witness-
the gorgeous, ruinous and
hideous days.
How would I claim
the legacy of a deaf and dumb
sky?
The fragile bones of the
earth, break.
Blackberries burn under
the eyes.
The hidden herons
fall involuntarily, when you
trim the tree for a
new moon.
Satish Verma, 13 december 2020
Standing on black stones―
in water death,
I let it go, my pride
at the end of bay.
No obituary
no elegy,
will erase the thoughts of coming and going
of moon, when night
starts crying.
The smoke-filled eyes
will speak of the burnt house,
when the sun was
telling the truth.
Setting frozen tulips
at your feet, I bring the
river of tears
to start the day.
Satish Verma, 12 december 2020
Yes it is descriptive only,
the unbearable pain of denudation,
like blue heartache.
Touching the extremes, you
become desperate to―
reach the first letter.
The word will form later.
The virtue of knowing―
the unknown was a punishment,
you cannot untie the knots.
You must know the trick of―
the trade. How to come back
alive after touching the skin
of a viper?
No celebration to mark―
the anniversary of the assassin.
Life itself takes the award.
Satish Verma, 11 december 2020
There was obsession, to wash your
hands again and again.
They swing wildly.
The moods.
Betel leaves, and bad grammar.
Charity untainted.
Divided walls.
A street breaks the steps.
Nails scratching the rosary.
The stranded words,
will not sit on the wide screen.
The damp soil becomes dark.
No gift was needed-
unmaking the wasp's nest.
I bend down to light the lamp.
Satish Verma, 10 december 2020
A single line,
undefined, hangs
to make your life vulnerable.
The drifting starts.
You fumble for the right-
text,
to convey the urgency
of a moratorium. The
dew on the grass,
was not ready to
accept the rainbow of
false promises.
Flat refusal comes
from the deprived homes.
The poverty has become a sin.
The elegant procession
of the king was throwing
dust in our eyes.
Satish Verma, 9 december 2020
In being and unbeing
I come to you today-
in unconscious state.
Excessively leaning on
cause, it is not heart-
not brain. Just a beat.
Evening is settling
down. Time flew past. Birds
going home. A lone moon
will rise.
Underground thoughts start-
stunning the secrets.
You open the lost book.
In war go the alphabet.
Questions arise. After all-
who was me.
The awakening begins.
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