Satish Verma, 14 january 2020
A diminutive moon
will ask about the infinity
of blackness, when I
was waiting in November night
of a toothed fall
in a missing success.
Ahead of time, you
punch the wailing trunk
of the fallen tree. I had the taste
of honey, but who am I,
a giver of anonymity?
Withering in a fire house
without door. I have come back
to know my ancestory. This
was my home once, in the
ancient history of man. This
was the gift, this was the dawn.
Satish Verma, 13 january 2020
It was devastating.
Out of boredom, drops in
the moon, in the month October.
Hanging over a palm,
to shake hand with a
lone survivor,
a firefly.
A silvery silence
explodes in you face, before
you write a simple word
on the golden leaf.
And I must undo
the locks of complex, winged
life, which will not set―
me free from the funeral
pain. I am going to
meet myself, beyond you.
Satish Verma, 11 january 2020
Sometimes I do not
want to be talked about.
Like the setting sun.
The earthworm was busy
in turning the soil,
printing the seed's path.
I had removed, from
the house, all the clocks.
I wanted the time, to stand still.
My moment has not come.
In aloneness I will
find you in my shut eyes.
The dark night swims
once again, on the sea
to reach the boat.
You lay down your head on
the oars and go to long sleep.
Satish Verma, 10 january 2020
Autumn was round
the corner. I was preparing
for the fall.
The great wall
is crumbling. Will you
come for reunion?
Thea leaves,
I am ripening for you in sun.
Come like the moon's milk.
Satish Verma, 9 january 2020
I hear your voice
coming from within.
The disconnect, the cultural clash,
from river,
from tree,
from the golden nest.
The circle was complete,
breech birth,
the explicit insult.
The parched moon―
will bring the cold
tears, to extinguish the sparks
going home.
The roadway leads
to nowhere land. You will
again meet the wounded
cuckoo which will always sing
the hurts.
Satish Verma, 9 january 2020
You come to me like
a fall.
All the colors have arrived.
The being, an entity―
multiplies. For now,
in past, in future.
A will not move away very far
from the dots.
A tangent will lead you to me.
Satish Verma, 8 january 2020
Blunt and bold were
the wet spots.
You bleed like me.
The seizure takes hold
of millions thoughts.
My sins are walking with me.
No annihilation of
the flesh. I was meeting
the spirits.
The face becomes pure
gold, when you
start burning the issues.
The years had survived
in slumber.
Death will not come to the hanged man.
RENATA, 7 january 2020
***
związało ich życie strumieniem piwa
fontanną wręcz
raz jedno raz drugie się kiwa
wśród krzyków ' do matki precz
***
chciała być jak opoka
co trzyma bramy świątyni
została trofeum
w chlewie u świni
***
jesteśmy sobie przeznaczeni
mówili wszem i wobec
połączyły ich dzieci
podzieliły pieniądze
***
jaki on dobry mamusiu
nawet obiady gotuje
na pięćset puls uczciwie zarobił
i już pracą się nie przejmuje
***
latały łabędzie parami
swoim niebem górami lasami
ten trzeci wbił się na chama
oj moja będzie ta dama
zdradzona istota
łzy pod poduszkę chowa
w egzekucji trzeciemu odda
karmy wodospad
***
steve, 7 january 2020
Please forgive me Father.. for the man "I am not"...
As the sin in me is stronger.. then the love I never got,
I thought I'd follow my heart.. but it just led me astray...
So far away from you... I've forgotten how to pray,
Forgive me for believing... I could make it on my own...
I never meant to leave you.. or lose my way back home,
Forgive me for my weakness.. that keeps me lost in sin...
Thank you for the love you give.. that brings me back again,
Without you there is nothing.. and hope could never live...
Life would have no meaning.. without the love you give,
Forgive me for the love I feel.. that keeps my heart in chains...
Help me, Father, do your will... there's so much more to gain,
Give me your strength when I am weak.. your love when I have none..
Bring me home to be with you.. the Father and the Son.
Satish Verma, 6 january 2020
Tonight the moon will sit
on the gazobe,
to have a look at the sea, rising.
*
On the night's shade
dewdrops will wait, till
morning glory blooms.
*
It was a long night.
My lamp starts to flicker.
I hurry up to finish my poem.
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