Satish Verma, 5 april 2018
Such were the times.
You wanted to become sane
after losing the mind.
*
A death trap─
looking in the rear mirror.
The first word you spoke.
*
The ugly turn
of the events. This November
a moon eclipse.
Satish Verma, 4 april 2018
The intrigues, the twists
unravel the woven threads
of the mystery. Traumatized
and dazed, I play─
dice with the unknown to
find out the truth.
Confronting the purpose
of existence,
you come out of the flesh
after flogging─
and start dancing
with bones.
Extremely poor,
you play the hand
and fail.
Elsewhere someone
climbs on the pole
and sets the house on fire.
Satish Verma, 3 april 2018
What was the
secret of the path?
A tree was climbing on a hill.
*
Temple festival.
I have come from faraway
to pick up the marigolds.
*
My clouds
will not reach your summit.
They are heavy with rains.
Satish Verma, 2 april 2018
Incubation was not
complete. The thirst of
thoughts will find a
convoluted shell─
wrapping up the kernel.
Throw a stone on the
sinner. This was on
me. I will accept the
rocks to open up─
a fountain.
There was a silver screen
for the lovers. You will
not regret for the raw
emotions. A sperm whale
in the sea will spew─
a streams of profanities.
Satish Verma, 1 april 2018
In the waning moon
you were talking
of fathoms.
*
The water
has countless images.
Do you need a boat?
*
The vampires.
Why you go to the ruins.
I am bleeding.
Paweł Szkołut, 31 march 2018
„For in him we live and move and have our being.”
Acts 17,28
I was searching you in the streets of Jerusalem
among the stalls of the Old Town
walking on the sloping stones of the Roman era
staring at the palpable faces of the Palestinians
Jews, Armenians – on the focused visages of pilgrims and tourists.
I was looking for your blood and sweat on Via Dolorosa,
on Litostrotos where Pilate judged you
in the Upper Room - next to King David's grave,
in the Garden of Gethsemane which thick twisted olive trees
are still telling the story of the Paschal Night,
under the Wailing Wall, listening to Jewish prayers
I was searching for your wisdom and joy
on the Mount of the Temple where you walked and taught.
I was looking for you in the place of the former Golgotha
I tracked your pain, anxiety and suffering
I opened my heart to your love
and the creative power - for your immortality,
I tried to understandyour eternal victory
over death and evil.
I've been searching for you from dawn to dusk
restless that I will not find you,
but you were everywhere
supplied with your power,
you were always ahead of me
I almost felt your breath
the rustle of your robes
and the sunny scent of your body.
I tried to reach out to touch you
but you suddenly turned and disappeared
- then I felt and understood
You are, Adonai, closer to me
than I - to myself.
2005
Satish Verma, 31 march 2018
How age slips away
from your hands?
How deep you will
go in the cavernous
mind of time?
Why brother,
why, the healing started
to hurt you and you
did not want to
stitch the name?
No tattoo will tell your
address. You want to
go anonymously, leaving
the moon behind
the brown hills.
The shadows are─
lengthening. Time was up.
Lay down your arms
and walk away with
empty hands.
Satish Verma, 30 march 2018
Time. Marches on;
tasting the blood of hikers,
who would not─
reach the summit.
*
Red clover.
I walk under the black
moon to light─
the fire.
*
Meet me
sometime, in the half way
house, I have forgotten
my name.
Satish Verma, 29 march 2018
An empty chair in a
muffled day, starts
a self-import and
falters on steps.
You need the fear, to
strike back, when the
tracer distribution
returns with a ghost.
The discount will substract
from the truth. I will
find the zero at the
end of lies.
Will I concede to the
barter? Let me first taste
the bitterness of victory,
become drunk on your hate.
Satish Verma, 28 march 2018
A rose.
Atonement for-
all the thorns.
*
I will gather─
all the poems. For anointing
your memory.
*
Where the sun
hides, I will paint a
field of marigolds.
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