Girija KSK, 25 january 2016
The secret of love is love itself…….
as it exudes a fragrance,
however hidden it may be……..!
It gives out as a flicker of light behind the eyes;
a smile suppressed behind the lips;
a caress on your throbbing wound;
a caring word, soothing your woes,
a loving grasp of your finger tight…….
And you cannot miss it, if it is there!
I have a strange encounter with love;
its memory still mesmerizes me,
though long years have passed……
After a critical operation
and five days in ventilator,
the moment when my husband recognized me
with swollen eyes, bandaged head
and unsteady words….
I then knew what love is…….
It’s a spring in the heart,
which sometimes wells up in the eyes….
and a feeling beyond words………….!
Girija KSK, 25 january 2016
He just walked away
at the dead of the night-
leaving a family to grope in the gloom!
It was least convincing to me
Being a girl of seventeen!
I felt a sense of betrayal and the resultant bitterness
As if he had plotted for a secret journey
leaving me behind, as usual!
I couldn’t cry, father’s pet though I was;
Can anyone leave the dear ones
with no parting words…?
But I remember, how shattered my elder brother was,
as he kept wiping frantically my unshed tears,
With tears overflowing his eyes!
We sat near his body, more dead
than the benumbed one…….
But yet the crow’s first caw and the new day break,
ushered us to a world
where our father was no more!
Later, alone in his room
I felt, how real helpless he would be
when death captured him unaware.
I cried for my poor father,
with whom I have never shared a secret or a sorrow…!
Yet there are memories
Culled a long way,
that make him dear…….
How proud he was over the marks
his children scored in the exams…
How strict he was that
we shouldn’t waste time over trivialities……
So, for a long period when the gate creaked,
I swiftly hid my colour pencils
and switched off my radio, fearing his frown.
But now I know,
You sure loved us, dear father,
yet left us with a word of love untold
and with a caress never made;
I feel I miss that more, dear father,
than your lack of presence!
Girija KSK, 25 january 2016
This is for those,
who cherish a spark of sorrow
concealed in their hearts,
(oft forgotten, as the dire truth of death…)
which just blazes unaware,
and subsides without any downpour of tears,
or whisk of sighs.
This is for those,
who at times, feel the pangs of loneliness
-amidst even the supposed closest minds-,
sadly realizing that each soul has its orbit
and into which no human intruder is allowed……!
This is for those,
who yet abhor the void between minds
and suffocate in dark deprivation alone ……………!
In deep empathy, let me tell you, my dears,
not to bind hard, with strings of love
to keep the ones who are close to your heart,
as it would be stretched too far,
making your heartstrings bleed!
Better delve deep into yourself,
as solace is the music only of the Soul,
which echoes all through the span of Universe,
encompassing all the ages bygone,
and you can own it only from you…!
**********
Satish Verma, 25 january 2016
An uneasy blood cascades
in the slender arteries
when you,
that I wanted to touch
disappear into twilight of memory.
Always a sense of bereavement.
why do I care for you?
Time drops like an old coin
in the hands of a drifter.
Take away my sleep
I want to wake for the whole night
and recite the unwritten poems.
Again life had been very kind to me
I am free to face
muse and sorrow.
Satish Verma, 24 january 2016
Something was always missing around
one had to die daily.
To find out, what?
Just a slip of time,
life was death and death was life.
Death of a man or death of a city
death had no other name.
Hearing the footfalls of death
dogs were howling around a temple
where god was dying.
The nation now mourns
for the banished priest.
At the burning pyre
there is still no peace.
Anger lives inside the books,
flame hides in the candles.
And a rage surges forward
in the bones of archaic humour.
Satish Verma, 23 january 2016
Faded years come back with a vengeance
Clutching your sorrows.
And you were walking on the burning coals.
Spirit of journey was more relevant
than destiny.
You lifted the burden of anecdotes, gathered
the dusk from the sky
and moved on towards moon.
Tormented, abused, the motive unknown,
hostilities were always directed at you
Alone you were killing the sickening pain,
strangulating the thought, you opened
the door of brilliance.
So thin was ice on the lake,
evil shadows were falling on the road
It was hard to walk unruffled.
Still unzipped, you took the plunge.
Satish Verma, 22 january 2016
The decline is steep and fast
Life groans
under the debris of charities.
Can you trespass the designed lies?
When the path reaches the milestone
long arms of justice defies the boulders,
which were ready to build a shrine.
The mutiny was feeble
and the poisoned arrow did not find the guilty.
A big mouth causes
delirium tremens. You weep under a cloud.
Let us drink a toast
in memory of a failed god
Who could not rescue a town
from loneliness.
A courtesan lies in the mid of road
under concrete asphalt.
The wheels don’t stop
and world moves on.
Satish Verma, 21 january 2016
In unthinkable death how do you carry
yourself?
An intimate dialogue with death
Fearless, undaunted.
I admire your grit.
One thin blade, one silken noose
but you want to face the bullet
straight in your heart.
The death should come instantly, because you
want to be witness, your head falling with
grace.
Why did you chase death
whistling on the beach,
taunting the eccentric sky
like muted revenge.
The grave will be too small for you
Your legs sticking out.
Lime burning your eyes.
Turning back the grave diggers may
not like to face your moved earth!
Satish Verma, 20 january 2016
I am asking
who is calling the shots?
The time makes noise,
and silence brings pain.
Years go by.
Night of stars and moon
develops a sonorous dream.
All kinds of brutes and aborigines come to parade
flaunting their arms and ammunition.
Where they are going in veils?
The body of truth is already lying in state.
Magnified eyes stare at micro images
of windows,
through which you could see
long tentacles of an octopus.
Meditation helps for a while,
contradictions arise again.
The empty spaces are being encroached
upon by tall promises.
Satish Verma, 19 january 2016
Clouds had refused to part.
A fractured moon was walking in dismay
stroking the gazing stars.
Cornwhite belonging of ashes was
to fire, beloved sky was enchanted
with water ceremony
as a sign of gratitude to earth.
The wind decided to reverse the clock
and navigate in trees of waxing summer
blowing yellow crystals of sulphur.
A red admiral lands on a lone marigold
with detachment, surveys pollen, pie-eyed,
dangles, tilting a nod, emerges for another sortie.
If there was an action, I think in between:
live with it in fire of mind. The voyage
begins when the song of eternity starts.
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