Satish Verma, 2 september 2021
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?
Satish Verma, 1 september 2021
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.
Satish Verma, 31 august 2021
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.
Satish Verma, 30 august 2021
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.
Satish Verma, 29 august 2021
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.
Satish Verma, 28 august 2021
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.
Satish Verma, 27 august 2021
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.
Satish Verma, 26 august 2021
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.
Satish Verma, 25 august 2021
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.
Satish Verma, 24 august 2021
Your freckles should not
go like innocence. Sun
was overlapping the galaxies.
I become whole for a while,
when you cry for the blueberry
moon in vain.
Why the night dips into your blue eyes?
No irony. I will wait
for you on the burning deck.
The schism was widening.
An animal living inside me
wants to raise his head.
The loser gets the inky jet
to cover his body. How about
getting a glimpse of lightning
walking down the road?
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