Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 23 january 2017

Raging Spring

Siblings 
will take care of the morgue. 
I am going to hang my god 
today. Howling winds 
are crashing into my breath. 
 
 
In the sea 
of flags, the white death walks on 
naked bodies of faith. Innocence 
will take a back seat 
listening to the roaring assault 
of blues. 
 
Was it a hymn to drink 
the religion of rage? 
The men sitting in the glass vases 
worshiping the rising sun in awe 
with folded hands.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 22 january 2017

Grief Unspoken

It was the interplay 
between shadow and moon. 
An encephalopathy 
in ring of fire? 
 
The blast was the tipping 
point of your identity. Now 
you don’t recognize yourself 
amid the books. 
 
Grieving can start now. 
Tossed from temple roof 
on to mound of ash, you 
stand on your grave for final count. 
 
Again your voice will drown 
in a green pond. It was a 
prelude to a voicelessness for 
ever. Irretrievable was, a bird song.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 21 january 2017

Holding On

Bounty 
of landfall. 
I am collecting your berries. 
 
The castle 
has connived with the moat 
to end an era. 
 
The first step 
ends the journey. 
An avatar has accepted the bribe. 
 
Gather the tents 
and return the sky. 
My morale is sinking very low. 
 
The dream 
will wash the eyes 
to read the book again.


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mvvenkataraman

mvvenkataraman, 20 january 2017

To Write Poetry with Glee

Art of writing poetry
Is like growing a tree
We must well-nourish it
To make it stay fit

Through a wide reading
Which, poem is needing
We must gain knowledge
To build a poetic bridge

We must study great books
And shape wisely our outlooks
And read all noble quotes
To travel in poetry's routes

We must always ponder over
And feel diffident never
By pursuing with enthusiasm
We must follow optimism

When daily we make a try
Our thoughts will never dry
We soon write poems easily
Our fame then grows greatly.

mvvenkataraman


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 19 january 2017

Stunned

Confused and wary like a 
spermwhale, you are 
nosediving; - 
 
through the shadows 
of terrible pain 
ejecting ambergris. 
 
Who was getting 
the bribery 
to fix the belly button? 
 
This was not revolution. 
It was evolution- 
of a stinking city. 
 
The gods were sleeping 
on the lips of a pride. 
Nurses were preparing the bed. 
 
How far the sane voice 
will reach, to deliver 
the relics of a salted dynasty? 
 

 
Unbodied, how do I touch you 
groping? The message was not 
clear. How to kill oneself on stage? 
 
A beehive falls on 
your head. Are you going 
to scream? 
 
Entire town was going 
for a pilgrimage. The saint 
was preparing for a self-burial. 
 
A hundred thousand moons 
were placed on your crown. 
The sun was going to roll. 
 
Charred bodies 
were turning in graves. 
Who was becoming untouchable now? 
 
Give me a kiss of cobra. 
My bandaged life 
wants to sleep in peace. 
 

 
His severed legs were 
tucked under his head to serve as a pillow. 
He was half-eaten. 
 
Howling 
was silencing all the shames 
Woman, I am not coming home.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 18 january 2017

Green Circle

You are peeling me off 
like a crab. 
Time has sunk very low. 
 
For the hungry kids 
who was growing crab apples? 
 
Creating art, 
arriving between the pubes. 
 
A microfossil 
roosting within me. 
I could live without oxygen. 
 
Incandescent, 
the liquid wounds. 
I will not send any salvo.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 17 january 2017

Pleading

Mooneater, I am my poem: 
fantasy of words 
traveling through fog. 
 
When light sneaks in, 
would you like to weep 
with me? 
 
Dear death, 
I am not ready to 
close my chapter. 
 
You are you 
but I am not me - 
taking a flight in dark. 
 
Disintegrating, 
I am collecting the spiderwebs 
to catch the moon.


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POEWHIT

POEWHIT, 16 january 2017

TREASURE

Into the attic I creep.
Just for a tiny peek.
They won't ever know.
I'll go real slow.

A pirate trunk to find.
Jolly Roger, and that kind.
Slowly open to look.
It's empty but one book.

Soiled and old, yet it gleams.
First page open by seam.
Dear Diary, today I cry.
I met this nice guy.

from my poem book - DREAMS


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 16 january 2017

Flickering Dream

It was your 
integrity 
 
at the time of ubiquitous pain 
of separation, you want to move the home 
away from home 
 
coming 
to terms with the trauma 
your shadow was not following you 
 
playing dead 
nuzzling the earth, racing to fill 
the void, entering the truthlessness 
 
this world 
of violence, of mayhem, of self-betrayal, 
the flags are not able to cover the nudity


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 15 january 2017

Battle For Madness

I see it coming 
the end before the beginning. 
Of dawn. 
The midnight call. 
 
Impeachment was fragile. 
A satanic cult 
overwhelms the freedom 
of negation. 
 
Do yoy think we can 
move the tree of wisdom 
from the altar of ethics 
sending shots to the sky. 
 
From the grief of paradoxes 
Can you run away? One 
moment you exhibit the caked blood. 
Next moment it is dark. 
 

 
Standing on crossroad, 
do we end the walk 
and wait for rumbling 
surge of anarchy? 
 
The anguish is writ 
large on the tanned sun 
who was moving along with 
porcupines. 
 
The wild berries 
have colored the skull caps. 
Swarms of red ants 
are running behind the heels.


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