Satish Verma, 3 may 2023
I dreamed of you.
Otherworldly. Blue and tender.
Not my pain anymore.
Did you pray for me
and asked to write a last
poem for sake of veil?
A bird takes, sand
bath, before jumps on a pyre
to prove fidelity.
Satish Verma, 2 may 2023
Like woodpecker
someone knocks at door
to deliver acorns.
Were it you after
resurrection to pay back
the debt of half-love?
Door will remain open
to let in the known killer
of beautiful sin.
Satish Verma, 1 may 2023
Light the candle, I
fed creepy in the grey
night of terror.
Fear overtakes.
Heartbeats reach crescendo.
Is it end of charm?
The riot begins
in dim moonlight. Who burns
the coat on the hills.
Satish Verma, 30 april 2023
Why bewildered?
There is always something
to say to unknown,
You wouldn't believe.
Where violence ends,
God is born.
The hummingbird
croons a note to bring
back, spirit of hymn.
Satish Verma, 29 april 2023
It will not happen
again, the eye contact
with swaying moon.
Smoke was rising
from heaps of dead leaves
from distant garden.
You become a past
in the hands of slaughterer.
Ethos plays game.
Satish Verma, 28 april 2023
Shy from finding
the depth of your being?
I was walking on the
cobbled shadows.
Like thinking of
afterlife, when you were
preparing legacy of black moon.
Who would not do it?
Would you go to
the fire temple to know
the age of dying god?
Space widens between the eyes.
The grid cannot
hide the deepening chasm.
Your musing shifts. A pen,
the paper and words assemble.
Satish Verma, 27 april 2023
You were lost
in this brutal world
I was a failed truth.
Exotic your heart
still sings for the future
of awakening.
Very old, very pained
were our wounds.
Man was rising every night.
Why were you not
present at sunset, when
twilight was burning
in moon?
You need a gift
of grave to stay cool
when the sky was burning?
Satish Verma, 26 april 2023
Choosing the dusk
before dawn to halt the
flowers beheading.
It wriggles like
snake, the time. No wait
between life and death.
Take me to deep
sea of pain. I will never
count falling stars.
Satish Verma, 25 april 2023
One scripts one's
own doom, standing at the
bank of a dried river.
Bone china reflects
the destiny of ‘being' in war
of grounded ships.
Limbs take you back
to the ruins of young night
outside of moon.
Satish Verma, 23 april 2023
I don't hear
I don't speak.
Only the ink flows-
without words, waiting
for birth mother.
Water breaks.
A poem is born.
Poetry
Prose
Photography
Graphics
Video poems
Postcards
Diary
Books
Handmade
