Satish Verma, 26 october 2019
How difficult it was to
remain a simple truth,
as passive grass
with no frills.
I was ready to talk
heart to heart.
You cannot stand all the ink,
writing, simple verse, furtively.
What was eating you up,
I asked the milkweed.
"On this summer, monarchs
were not coming to breed"
it said.
I felt the unease. Grappled with the
amount of pain, at tiny thoughts.
The scale and brutality
of the times, the throats slit open.
Like a clam you shut up.
steve, 25 october 2019
I guess I should let go... as you want no part of me...
And never get to know the part.. that I will never see,
The part of you I've longed for.. the part I've never known...
The part that's kept behind closed doors... a fortress made of stone,
I know just where I stand .. you can't help the way you feel...
We can't control what's in our heart.. or expect it to be still,
And though my true desire.. runs deeper than the sea...
Sometimes we have to bury pain.. before we can be free,
And I will not forget you... I wouldn't even try...
Does the moon forget the stars.. as they share the evening sky?
I must take my love and "fly away".. while the winds beneath my wings...
But you will always have my heart.. and I'll always have my dreams.
Satish Verma, 25 october 2019
After sitting in dark
through the black smiles,
you cannot stand the light.
The bloodshed, inclusive
of measuring the purity of intent,
celebrating the arrival―
and departure, ignoring the passage.
The road smells the spot, and feeds the rags.
These leaps and bounds
land you at the dead end. No trees
no leaves. Where you will go now?
How you hate yourself, now
beheading the roses. The cloud forest, where
you will find a new carnivore.
steve, 24 october 2019
Though all you have for me is hate... I'll always care for you...
Because nothing that you said.. made me feel the way you do,
Am I supposed to walk away.. and never say your name...
Never dream of you again.. and pretend there is no pain,
Tell myself to just let go .. you never cared for me...
And put my broken heart away.. that I wore on my sleeve,
Because my whole world got darker.. when you said goodbye...
And though you wouldn't know it .. I'd think of you and cry,
I don't know what I did.. that would turn your heart to stone...
But when you said goodbye to me .. it hurt right to the bone,
Any thoughts of touching you.. have all dissolved away...
And any dreams I had of us.. will never see the day,
So I try hard to not think about.. the last time I saw you...
I don't want to feel your hate.. much less believe it's true,
You took me by complete surprise .. I had "no words" to say...
And I can't fight the one I love .. I had to walk away,
I thought that we were stronger than any play on words...
I thought that we were friends.. but I guess that's been deferred,
It's not easy letting go .. but you know I can't hold on...
If that's the way you really feel.. you're already gone,
I'll just have to face the dark.. the way I always do...
Shed some tears before I sleep.. and wake up without you.
Satish Verma, 24 october 2019
In the humid night
there was a circularity
of rhythmic chirping of the crickets.
Suddenly there is a lull.
Everything stops in the tracks.
Then a chorus rises―
building up to crescendo.
You become easily distracted
being sole surviving species―
not defending you flaws.
Then your mind shrinks.
You would like to hide
the emptiness, but
the psyche impales you.
The baby moon starts
transliterating the great―
silence on your lips.
Satish Verma, 23 october 2019
Pushed aside and
sequestered, like a
frieze, you hang on a wall.
From grape to grapefruit
the journey was tedious.
When you start reading the mind,
the crisis deepens.
Cannabis? Like psychoactive;
the anger rises against hyper―
male identity. A gender
based disorder. It kills
scores of cuckoos. Who will
give now, a mating call?
A prison-break. You set
free all the songs and
release the inmates of conscience.
Satish Verma, 22 october 2019
It is over. The curtain falls.
I have come to settle―
my account with the waning moon.
Will call you later,
when the dawn breaks
and sun spells out the light.
The water has receded―
on the beach, leaving some
empty shells, hollowed fish
and upturned paper boats.
I move around the small pool,
left by the angry sea.
You will start commenting
on my poems. I wanted to read
your handwritten notes to know―
how your mind works.
I will not meet you again.
Satish Verma, 21 october 2019
There was a scream,
a howl. Something, somebody
had scuttled the platter.
You stop and frisk yourself,
and as if the red ants had
started coming out from your
eyes.
It wets the script. An apparition.
A dove flutters in the chest. A
fantasy, like you leave your body.
A window opens, shuts. Opens, shuts.
One vestigial flicker of the miasma
unsettles, the tree culture,
The undersides of the tongue becomes blue.
Do you know, you read
from the back side of the brain?
Have you heard the hindsight?
Yes, sometimes, means no.
Satish Verma, 20 october 2019
To foil the pride of
initiating the blasts;
there was a terror watch―
to share a common link
of violence.
And speak I will, for the
grains, for the grass,
in the endless search
for the peace.
The obsessed autism
illustrates the bipolar.
Light and darkness―
alternating.
A thought poetry, in
quantum physics, makes
a sacrifice. It will
not look back.
Satish Verma, 19 october 2019
The quality drops. You
look at the sky.
A juvenile moon was
following us.
The intention was not very
clear. To shake off the tail,
we went behind the bushes―
to understand ourselves.
The ennui was taking a
big toll. The roots were becoming
robotic. Cannot negotiate an issue.
Seedless, you cannot
impregnate. No thoughts―
no poems.
But then the life has so
many giggles.
You can start reading a murder.
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