Gert Strydom, 6 november 2014
When my whole world was falling apart
nowhere I could find any answers
and I was blinded far too much by disillusion
and thunder falling mercilessly from everywhere
and then I did talk to the God of the universe,
did remind Him that I am still His child
and in the evening wind
I did see His image displayed for mere moments.
That life is inaccessible at times,
that a person has got to try time after time,
even if it feels as if there is no hope,
have got to trust past meaning and knowledge
nobody could teach me
but still I kept my eyes on You my Lord.
Gert Strydom, 6 november 2014
Like a tree trunk or a piece of wood
that is being carried along
by a river or the sea
and here and there bash
against rocks or the shore
and then again drift farther
I went through life
until we did meet
and I got resolution from you
and I do know what real love is.
Satish Verma, 6 november 2014
The panther goes for the neck only.
A body trembles on the stairs.
Scarred bones are strewn around in
the broad day light.
I sometimes hear a wailing sound.
Here lies the scarf, the coat, the shoes.
A nation is rambling in dark
woods. Faces have become stones.
No longer, the illustrious suffering will help.
How to judge the verdict?
Defence is proving the guilt,
and desert shouts a single
name.
How many meanings should be thrown
for one answer?
The tears. Are they not sufficient
to give the depth of immensity?
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 5 november 2014
Laying with a couple of bushman trackers
in the darkness of a almost starless clouded sky,
not being able to make a nice hot fire,
being too near to the enemy
I listened to their stories
and it was almost as if they
were wooing the moon
to shine through patches in the clouds
are able to identify any animal
from the sounds of howls, snorts
or even movements that it made
and later silence covers us like a cloak.
Satish Verma, 5 november 2014
Beyond the gaze there is a time zone
of rumored agitation
when you cannot sleep.
You open your eyes quietly to complain.
The caretaker has prepared the shroud,
Smoke is rising on the hills.
No body walks with you,
it is a lone journey, where
centuries throw the dust on your hallowed gifts.
The pyramid of signs, symbols, signatures,
disappear in penultimate flare.
Time to leave the waiting room.
The resurrection will take place now;
of fear; of despair; of foot steps in dark.
I will hear them, holding my breath.
Landscape will change into valley of tears.
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 4 november 2014
I see shadows everywhere,
one follow me
but the rest just
image off the things in my life.
Still love fills me
and is now more than just
another thing leaving its mark
since it’s part of every word and deed.
Satish Verma, 3 november 2014
It was a fascinating night
like albino children playing in park.
I was gazing at sky.
The years have gone by one by one.
I am still walking on dead leaves
refusing the fruits.
This was me, no urge, no need,
the leather worn out but
feet are intact.
A continous civil war among the windows
suffers the grace. Stupidities of house.
You collect the garbage whole life
and when time comes to depart,
make a bonfire of your winnings.
We are ageing like wall paper
and talking to doors. The guest
is coming at last.
Satish Verma, 2 november 2014
Looked naïve, but he was
elevating himself on the heap of lights
unlearning the human commitment.
Hunger was his weapon
to level the uprising of underprivileged.
This monarch of darkness
picks up the best,
insists on low profiles.
We were searching fossils
under the rocks
to decipher the shadows of history.
Between the glory of hardened footprints,
we found the labels.
Contents unknown but enough to browse.
They were weightless
and soaring high.
But I was not able to survive.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 1 november 2014
I watched in horror,
your pride was tilting.
The landscape was losing the freedom of anonymity.
The labels were rejecting,
the moods of winds,
and embarrassing the consensual sleep.
Where was the need of constructing the arches
on ugly roads,
when mob was indulging in incestuous manner?
Incognito moves the truth, crest fallen.
I had been on edge since long.
This human atrophy was appalling,
while I was searching a doomed culture,
in orchards of wits.
Two thousand seven, and still our angular limbs
cannot move the time.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 31 october 2014
Tell me how to tell you about a flat
robotic voice,
asking for euthanasia,
a rite of passage for ceremony of death.
He said, he preferred lethal injection
to noose. But it should be painless,
and there should be no leakage of pain
on face. Mercy it be.
This was not a stage show.
No mummer was performing.
Sitting in lotus position
inviting the inevitable. Be my destiny,
my end.
A terminal prayer of infant dream,
which could not find words,
worth any weakness.
Going separately on different routes,
meeting accidently at home
two things were quarreling with dark
quietly.
Satish Verma
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