Satish Verma, 4 october 2017
Surrender your shadow
to light.
Come my trenched thoughts.
An upside down
episode speaks of a missed
path, and of a blue smoke.
Have you entered
the lake to search for a
sunset is rising moon?
The house-trap again
catches you in midstream.
No peace. Eyes refuse to shut.
Bind the stars with a moon.
Let the night be blue-black.
A goddess of arson was coming.
Paweł Szkołut, 3 october 2017
The endless horizon
of wooded hills
immersed in silence
interrupted by the rare
singing of birds
reindeers
coming from the north
between the autumnal shots
and winter hunting
The Sami people
singing their jojk songs
and connecting with the ancestral spirits
the arctic wind
blowing under
the sky of amaranthine colors
at sunset
passing time
measured by growth of moss
on the rocks
and scattered antlers
of reindeers and elks
the perfect proportions
of long summer days
and short days of winter
the unity of coldness
and clean air
at nights
the intensified proximity
of the starlit
Universe
VIII 1995
Satish Verma, 3 october 2017
During the litany of questions,
I will talk to you,
about the innocence
of flowing river.
Here was your faultline.
You had washed your words in
the dirty stream.
Now, you were complaining about the winds.
I will not ask you
to kill the thrill of hurting
the defence. But
were you ready for a recount?
Black, as a burnt-out bread,
the time; will leave the wounds open.
I will write a poem
you will start screaming.
Renato N. Mascardo, 2 october 2017
carnage field
the hate
paddocked in your
deranged mind you let loose
dead dying maimed lay on the ground
but why//
renato
monday 2 october 2017
Satish Verma, 2 october 2017
To find the
essence of nothingness
you need to play a bluff.
The birthmark will come
without motherhood.
It lacks a commitment of
fatherless progeny. The stigma
arrives later when you meet
the moon at night.
I don't defend the puritan's version.
It was natural. Are we returning
to a thinking tree where parakeets
are nesting? The illegitimacy
of bold argument needs the
blessings of the birch.
Satish Verma, 1 october 2017
I will take you:
In claustrophobia,
head-to-toe,
fully immersed in death.
*
Where the horizon
meets the asteroid.
I will call, the near
earth, my prayer.
*
A distant touch
of your encounter, takes
a big toll. I have started
talking to moon.
Satish Verma, 30 september 2017
The father and child
Will not talk to
Each other.
There was a dispute.
Who was father?
*
Sometimes I wake up
In a dream, looking up
In your eyes.
Was it dark or moonlight?
*
Why you need to nurse
A pain? We will jump
In a river of inferno,
And drown together!
Satish Verma, 29 september 2017
When it is a moonless Night, you Start repeating yourself Like a parakeet. * Give me a call, when You are distressed, I Will come as a cloud To read your eyes. * A rain drop On the tip of A thorn. Are you crying?
Satish Verma, 28 september 2017
When the rage
will not find an exit.
Would you come to
share my grief?
*
We left our bones,
our souls behind;
to remind the word;
it was a booby-trap.
*
There was a gun debate
all the times. To kill
or not to kill the
fantasies in infancy.
Satish Verma, 27 september 2017
Answers remain elusive.
Stains were on shirt:
You went on wiping-
away the mirror.
Incarcerated,
biologically, he wanted
to get it changed.
The pecking order.
You were trying to
move away,
from yourself. Death
was the missing link.
Was it indecent
to start the self-inventory?
You start dancing
on the inaudible music.
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