Satish Verma, 8 february 2018
Read it,
or do not read
the road map.
Something has eaten into your wings.
You will not be able to fly
in the silent valley.
*
The clay gardens.
You always loved, the eccentricity.
A meltdown
refrains the sequenced
shyness. There will be
no moon tonight.
Satish Verma, 7 february 2018
Looking back into
gray spring.
Would you find the images
of the constellation
of lilies?
*
What a
metamorphosis?
From a tigress to a
wounded bird, waiting
to pick up a flight.
Balasubramanian, 6 february 2018
The Cold breeze which blows from the blue mountains, with bees swarming the lush green foliage
Bringing a Love Poem filled with words, which only unfolds, to our two hearts speaking the same language
Why is this air so sweet? Is it because of flowers blossoming in the evening, flooding our lungs with fragrance?
Or because of the thoughts of my beloved which are filled with ethereal love and seamless essence
The butterflies are humming their favorite tunes and flying towards our window-sill
The Peacocks cry and the Pigeons flutter, memories of our romance floating like wisps in the cotton mill
Reminds me that my dearest is around and it's time his warm embrace, surrounds my love thirsty soul
Taking me into a dreamy state of pure bliss, caressing me with a kiss on a well hidden knoll
How beautiful is this feeling, How beautiful is this life, dancing and swirling in the arms of the one
How charming is his smile which enthralls me with his eternal love like a benevolent sun
When we slowly meander into the garden of passion, with our little fingers entwined
Just like golden threads embroidered in a silk scarf, our two hearts merged and smoothly shined
Satish Verma, 5 february 2018
Ethics of brands will find
out the anatomist,
who will rip apart the hope
from the bones.
Death will come from
underside. The sky
will remain blue even after
the murder of the moons.
The revenge at dawn
was very painful. The
crows will scatter the
light from your hands.
The mobile towers had
come to a standstill.
Sparrows had become suspicious,
left for a holy bath.
Satish Verma, 4 february 2018
Midnight encounter.
In moon, on sand.
Why you were igniting a sheltered home
of wounded pride?
The blood spills
over the sea, in boat.
You were unrelenting, against traction
violence of unhappenings.
The blackness blooms.
A man will cross midstream,
writing on water the name of a lamb
who refuses to surrender.
I sit between the
kisses of dragonflies.
An empty paper nest waits for the wandering
wasps to come back with stings.
Satish Verma, 3 february 2018
Seizing a chance in
a trice, in one dark September
night of apotheoses-
a bird crashed in my
lap. I would not know
the virginity of the strange surrender.
The windows were tall,
with the black laces violating
the sovereignty of light.
I will not know you, will
not call the black magic,
will not transcend the body.
The white lilies were
staring down at water.
Was the dawn nearby?
Satish Verma, 2 february 2018
You had the numbers.
The reverse trends begins-
with uneasy and dark ambush.
A fatal miscue. You
will get the message.
The fingerprints will stay on the wall.
Enduring the onslaughts.
Remaining sky-clad I
will wander in your arms.
Fighting with the curves,
on sleepy islands, will
you hail my outstanding landing?
The revelation has a price.
You will not open the envelope
till I am dead.
Satish Verma, 1 february 2018
For a moonshine,
there was no moon.
There was no moon
for a moonshine.
It starts a tenuous
soliloquy, raising a –
slew of questions.
Slew of questions will
evoke a mixed response.
Were you ready for
a sleepover at the shrine
to watch the St. Vitus’s dance.
It was leaking at night
from the corner of eyes.
Unaging was the secret
of polity. Are you in?
Satish Verma, 31 january 2018
No stitches will work.
You have to navigate-
in mendacities.
You have to navigate-
in mendacities to find
the truth, the truth.
A papyrus write may
know the future, the destiny,
the future, the destiny.
You always run to piss
at the tree, to draw
the borders. The animal.
The animal within you, becomes
salmonella, dones a cap,
enters the dome.
Enters the dome.
Satish Verma, 30 january 2018
The smile conceals, something.
Does not offer any cue.
You were still traveling
within.
You wanted to leave the world,
as it was, without cleaving
the wood, not accepting the veneer.
It rang an alarm bell.
To evolve their own persona;
good to take their own path.
The fallout was widening.This
was an insider’s story.
What an audacious withdrawl;
and you were in a silent mode like a Buddha
to uptake the film of dust
settling on the innocent rape of book.
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