Satish Verma, 31 january 2019
You were lost
like a rolled away pill.
Hibiscus was waiting
*
As the night departs,
I will look at the moon
through misted eyes.
*
A bridge has collapsed.
How sad.
A bell tolls endlessly.
Satish Verma, 30 january 2019
Drinking from the portrait
of an alienated moon
in a self-taught remedy―
I was looking very
hurt in the muse, which
had failed the earth.
I wanted to say, my
sun was my sun,
broken, eclipse by eclipse.
Who was traitor to oneself?
Sifting the leaves of a
raptor, to find the death
under the shade of
sundew, which blooms
when you become an insect.
Satish Verma, 28 january 2019
You walked with me
when it was pitch-dark.
How do I find you in light?
*
These were the last roses,
for you. Henceforth
no water will flow from the eyes.
*
Only your face will swim
on the nippy moon;
burning skylark.
Satish Verma, 26 january 2019
You walk out from
the bruises, like a late
bloomer, for a clandestine
affair with indigo pain.
I break the barrier,
and teach myself, how not
to make an incendiary bomb.
A cohort will untie the barbed wires.
Now you can tread carefully
on fire ants, undaunted.
While stitches will take care
of the woundless blood.
A hoax sends you scurrying,
to find the golden apple,
which never emerges in light.
In despair you commit a crime.
Satish Verma, 25 january 2019
Where do I begin,
extracting the earth
from your skin?
The grim reaper
would wait. I have
to unwrap the gifts―
digging out the roots,
peeling off the bark.
The time stands still.
An exit wound
will receive the unborn
daughters.
Mother dust will
return the name
of annihilator.
Satish Verma, 24 january 2019
Writing,
a blood code.
Manipulating the taint.
Path,
towards the violence,
had the tribal instinct.
Scent,
of testosterone,
was the key thread.
You,
will not know, what
I conceive of the coming onslaught.
Constellation,
was ready to strike.
I am not myself today.
O, life, we will never know each other.
Satish Verma, 23 january 2019
Like the artifacts of ruins,
you look back
at the lost innocence.
Too much knowing,
was hurting.
Life does not spare you twice.
You arrive incognito
in the jungle of
fake hugs and kisses.
Innovative. The fear
strikes, bites with
a lethal sting.
Could not reverse
the anhydrous eyes.
Trying to exhaust the vision.
Satish Verma, 22 january 2019
The moonlight―
singed him at night.
How will you write a poem?
*
Standing at window,
you watch a shooting star―
hearing a cuckoo’s two-note call.
*
Picking red hollyhocks,
your face swims before me,
and fleeting time!
Satish Verma, 21 january 2019
Want to return,
to unknowing, the
trap door.
Filling up the gaps,
the arrow slits. No more
I will need weapons.
Trespassing the,
brutality of sin, committed
against the sanctity―
of body. This is how
I am re-creating myself
without morbidity.
Annihilation, was not
the answer. I am holding
the gold leaves of sun.
Satish Verma, 20 january 2019
It was a free fall,
drowning me on the footpath.
The yellow glare had
scattered me completely.
Left alone to suffer, the
failure were you. When the
brick come, you met yourself
in the doorway of menacing home.
The hunger pang was
obsolete. The fish will
not swim outside the orbit
of a new isle for enigma.
The Turkish stones, blue―
green eyes, haunt me in
sleep. Your life takes an
about-face, march outside the promise.
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