Satish Verma, 17 april 2024
Did you open it,
the red rose? Was it a sacrilege
to give an erotic response?
Golden door seldom
opens. We want eye contact
with the sun, envious of the moon.
A cut in pitch black
does not bring the light. The moon
always waits for the lover.
Satish Verma, 15 april 2024
I had my scars.
This war will not end any day,
fighting with my brute.
Your presence I
feel in my wounds. Will not
convert meinto martyr.
Soon I will pick
up bloody path of learning,
what I am, I was.
Satish Verma, 14 april 2024
Migration continues,
me to you. Conception guides
you to deep sea.
At middle― of pain
there can be mass extinction
of thoughts. You stay.
Like printing on
tablet of psyche, my genre of
immortal yearning.
Satish Verma, 13 april 2024
Season's intimacy
starts schooling you. The voice
halts the bloodshed.
From bone to bone.
Love is halved, flesh here
and there. No bargains.
Let me touch your
sprinkling glass, before you move
a step to sip hemlock.
Satish Verma, 12 april 2024
In its entirety your
life was a truth. Then why were
you tethered to sky?
You will shut your
eyes to hide the squint
of moon in distress.
How do I deliver
the pain of crying earth under
the blood clouds?
Satish Verma, 11 april 2024
Sometimes it
was better, not to know the
intrigues of temples.
Nude bodies on
ancient walls beseech all day
for liberation.
A love story will
always fascinate you, with
a gender healing.
Satish Verma, 10 april 2024
Sitting at seeding
time, tasting elixir of death
before you were born.
Can you tell me, how
much I had lived with you
without tragedies?
Blackout filters
the light to come to eyes.
I don't want to see end.
Satish Verma, 8 april 2024
The kindness drips,
when you stop writing about
yourself in sun.
The war continues
between dust and stars under
the gaze of Agni.
Part by part you
are throwing your flesh
to red eagles.
Satish Verma, 7 april 2024
In my smallness
I think tall. Nymphs want to
become ageless.
Black earth moves
the moon― Spirits were
saddened. Mayflies.
Would die in one
day. The wholeness has a
purpose to kill.
Satish Verma, 5 april 2024
Walking in sleep
you tiptoed as if gliding
on the cold water.
The forest weeps.
Burning and billowing
for the deathless mind.
No slogans. I will
wear the hijab of moon
to meet my lover.
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