Satish Verma, 31 august 2020
I had met the flower
after a longtime.
The rose.
And its fragrance
hauls me to childhood
after the big dying.
A tender, scented dream
will touch me,
to become a poet.
Lying on dewed grass
you think, a promiscuous
microbial libido begins.
The explosion will eject
free verses, waiting in silence-
to witness- the April fall.
Satish Verma, 30 august 2020
The sleep was disturbed.
A book reads me.
The thinker will not rest in the arms
of Morpheus.
There is no road. You will
walk in the kitchen for the last supper.
A scream in the throat
dies. I have no soul. The night
looms large. I will not surrender
my pen.
Unquenchable thirst
was me. My head in a spin,
I go beyond the words,
to find the clapping hands.
Satish Verma, 29 august 2020
Let me paint a still life.Like
your eyes- unmoving.The irises
with shut pupils.
Why I should be green-
I ask my old mentor?
The terror of a smile
wipes away the tail of dust, with comets.
And the pachyderm remains
buried in the sands of time.
Touching the margins was gone.
You cannot leap over the grass of antiquity.
In fog twin hills will move away
without any acrimony.
A denial becomes a stake
a part of the golden ring- the boundary mark.
Satish Verma, 28 august 2020
Zinnias were stalking.
The fading moon hangs upside down
from the massive Ficus tree.
Ultimately the grace withdraws.
Now you sit under the bo-tree
becoming a wet Buddha.
Unthinking, unblinking
falling out of thoughts,
and start supervising the barren landscape.
The dawn sets free, the white
pegions to become prey of ravens.
Would you talk about peace?
The evil touches every next door.
I will write a long letter
to me, to unwrite the sermons.
Renato N. Mascardo, 27 august 2020
this space between
nothing
in life is set
instead of finding that
all we feel is digital we
have to
make do
with sentiments
that are more analog
though we try to grip things around
us in
feelings
deemed binary
alas neither zero
nor one do they turn out to be
for when
life deals
us its blows we
end up uncertain like
Schrödinger's cat neither living
nor dead
as we
wait for what the
morrow brings let us dote
on this space between total grief
and joy//
renato
thursday 27 august 2020
Satish Verma, 27 august 2020
Something exciting
was to happen.You
call for an assayer.
Morality has failed,
running after the
false values of untruths.
Pure virginity.
I won't touch you again
for the sake of god.
Crossing the threshold
like walking on burning coals
to test the bonding.
The mankind was
always cannibalistic.
You devour the body without blood.
Satish Verma, 26 august 2020
I left a piece of moon on my
table and started writing about
the broken mirror. There was a time
when we used to cry together.
Dusting off the old books, uncared
for months. A rare ritual
defines the motion. It was the
temblor giving me a dustbath.
Do you know who was the leader
of the pack? The greed, the authority?
There was a bright door, between
the umbels. Would you taste the hemlock?
Every thing is in disorder. You
remember how cranky I was when
I found you unframed. Today
I will embrace the empty wall.
Satish Verma, 24 august 2020
Hunting calm, without
a kill, without a
mirage.
A momentary lapse
and you suffer
for centuries.
The pangs of separation
were rising.No birth.
You become a white mausoleum.
And the ancient
bloodshed will take care
of the pearls in your eyes.
Ask the moon
to lift the veil.Bonfires
of sharp pains have begun.
The halo around
your face quivers.I was
not a god.You were not mortal.
Satish Verma, 23 august 2020
Do not sleep, as libido
Moon will visit
the shrine of love today.
It was an end of the-
lone journey. You recover
the path of lost poem.
A river lies buried in
my chest, unawakned.
Would you kiss the stone today?
Satish Verma, 22 august 2020
Trying to quantify the vices
in you, I am becoming
brute.
Going my own way.
I join the migration
of invisibles.
A plucked tiger lily
roars. Amphibians were ready
to invade the mountain.
The curled fingers
had become question marks.
Blindness had become a bliss.
Inlaid in the redwood
lies my blood. I lived under
the branches, naked, carefree.
Poetry
Prose
Photography
Graphics
Video poems
Postcards
Diary
Books
Handmade
