George Krokos, 21 november 2017
There was sunlight pouring down
in the park and on the ground
where it could also be seen
the grass had a brighter sheen.
All the shadows that were cast
would for a while yet still last
and the beauty of that sight
was distinguished in the light.
__________________
Note: This was written to go with my graphic piece titled: Sunlight In The Park 1
Renato N. Mascardo, 20 november 2017
terpsichore
the muse
tapped Anetand
you to share with us your
joy on the floor void now of a
bel-esprit//
renato
monday 20 november 2017
Satish Verma, 19 november 2017
To confront his terror
he changed the game
plan for a mystery dive.
The custodian of a flame
will show serendipity.
Sun was enveloped in a dark matter.
The Teflon has disappeared.
You will remember the things-
you did not understand.
Someone nips at your heels.
You run faster. The evil
was flying home.
The house was in disarray.
Give me a comb to keep
the dark figures out.
Satish Verma, 18 november 2017
Go forth alone, as a beast,
as a bird, as a fish.
There were knots in the breast
to be dissolved.
Unfrequented, lust brings
a folded rose. A foeless
territory to explore the -
heaven of fingers.
Beautiful. I like you
Your smile enters the knife.
The knife goes into the heart.
The heart finds an angel.
Pomegranates. Dark red.
Oozing on the edges for
accepting the brunt of
a corrosive reversal.
Satish Verma, 17 november 2017
The rain washed,
moon. I am going to talk,
to clouds,
for a pause.
*
A serene
quietness.
Rain comes down in rhythmic dance.
No bird will sing now.
*
I will watch,
the bougainvilleas.
Shedding the coloured bracts
on velvety grass.
Satish Verma, 16 november 2017
Adept in riling.
You cannot chew the thoughts.
There was no mandible.
This double-edged
cutlass. The curvy contour
brings you to a hole. You
spray a defoliant to
denude the trees.
Naivete.
Who was competent enough
to disconnect the sparring
bulls. Disingenuous, you
were not interested to –
design a stillness as a
requiem for the trailing dazzlers.
Satish Verma, 15 november 2017
The sound of animosity
wakes you up.
There was a shadow war.
The ethnic otherness,
when you were ditching
the sermons, the adjectives.
Will you accept the
atrocity of nouns who keep
on inviting the fat spiders?
The vision has failed.
I don’t find any cue
to the nests of sparrows.
Ah, the booming guns.
But I was talking
to Sisyphus.
Satish Verma, 14 november 2017
The sound of animosity
wakes you up.
There was a shadow war.
The ethnic otherness,
when you were ditching
the sermons, the adjectives.
Will you accept the
atrocity of nouns who keep
on inviting the fat spiders?
The vision has failed.
I don’t find any cue
to the nests of sparrows.
Ah, the booming guns.
But I was talking
to Sisyphus.
Satish Verma, 12 november 2017
Untimely.
Illegitimate.
I will not ask
for an apology.
The hymn
started too early.
The dust had
settled on the lens.
Imitation.
Not real pearls.
Your words do not
convey the thought.
There was a
long distance –
between your lips
and my self-immolation.
Satish Verma, 11 november 2017
Wisdom
picks on the dementia.
I lash out in drunken rage.
The water world,
I stand on an island
in incremental rain-
of denials. Time was
floating on the shells.
Sea was in sullen mood.
Sunless sky wants
to start a ceremony of
clouds and tears.
How far you will
walk with a gypsy?
I have started the journey for invisible.
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