Satish Verma, 30 august 2018
Becoming scattered,
the winged visitors
in my chest.
Is there a home-
for sane thoughts in the jungle-
of unthruths?
How long I will
continue my journey
in search of grass?
Post Scriptum, 29 august 2018
'Let's make ma angel...' said God one day;
'...a piece of heaven for mortal eyes.
She'll save a soul that's gone astray,
guide it back home, through darkest skies."
And there on a dot, somewere in space,
God put an angel, the cutest thing.
And all the life was so amazed,
'she's like a jewel in crown of kings.'
Out of the blue, she stands in my door;
like piece of Eden, stunning, and proud.
Set heart on fire, its very core;
'is this a dream, am i aloud
to feel this love and even more,
to find my peace in heavens arms;
to see my life in amber stones,
to care for her untill i die?
This mirracle in no mans land,
where people love each others hate,
is what i fight for couse i stand
behind what's beautiful and great.
Satish Verma, 29 august 2018
Defrosting,
the mutability of homicide.
You were lost in dreams
stoking the protests of eyes.
What were the explicit
suggestive remarks?
A personality disorder for going back
to pyramids and searching the priest?
Embrace the death, who
says. The pavallion was empty.
Game was over and boys had
gone to dethrone the kissed thief.
The questions run, trailing
the path. What was the nature
of this thought, I say when
sky was infinite?
Satish Verma, 28 august 2018
A cherry legacy
and the orange pick.
Let me go wild.
*
Embellishing
the rock, with flowers,
for a golden fruit.
*
A journey, for
the comfort of slopes,
on the clear lake.
Satish Verma, 27 august 2018
The wind was black
and I wanted to make an eye contact
with the unknown.
Following the stars
in midnight-
there was something called
desire, in clean moon,
untying the knots-
in breast. The truth
was not in kernel,
it was in the flowing veins
of the leaves; sun, trapped
in green carbon. The-
wordless poem dousing
the fire between the cinders.
The cosmic door opens, shuts.
The bird song covers your tracks.
Satish Verma, 26 august 2018
Becoming musical
at the end time,
like a whooper's swan.
*
The poet sings
for carnations, when
the snow melts.
*
The secret,
you do not want to share
with death.
Satish Verma, 25 august 2018
The fantasy:
of moving in a circle,
taking a flower bath. A metaphysical
misquote. You were losing
your identity.
There was no abstract folly.
I will protect all the concrete truths.
To find a lover in the woods.
Fighting my demons
I start a circuitry of unborn vows.
The onslaughts continue.
Night comes with all its glory
to torment me, in absence of moon.
Irena, 24 august 2018
You will look for me
Inside the caves that rest deep within your soul
Thinking….
That I might be there
Knowing….
That I was the only one
That knew they’re there
You will look for me,I promise
You will look for me
Far ahead in the horizons
Thinking I might be the shadow approaching, but darling
I am not a shadow
I am a lightning that will never crush
On you!
You will look for me
Thinking I might be the reason for your hunger
But baby, you will
Never be fed!
You will look for me I promise!
You will hunt me, high and low
But I am no longer the prey, nor the trophy
You will look for me, I promise!
But you will not find me!
I also promise that!
Satish Verma, 24 august 2018
The ledge, jutting out
in quivering water.
Moon was sitting underneath, on floor.
*
I will look out-
for a songbird.
Something secret, I wanted to share.
*
I do not abuse anybody,
like a mockingbird-
I make a fool of myself.
Satish Verma, 23 august 2018
It was not easy,
to rewrite a dream poem
when you are bound and hurt.
*
A twiner
looms out, at my window.
Like a face, peeps in.
*
Do not want to tell,
about my sorrow,
before the dried up river.
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