Satish Verma, 6 april 2022
You walk through me
opening the portal of―
unending moment.
A right to die lingers in the eyes.
Not a serenade. I am
tying the knot on the tree.
The wait was becoming too long. I
would read again Hamlet without the prince.
Truth was not happy, when
you brought down the body.
The wind was moving like a panther
stealthily before the kill.
How shall we bite our toes―
now? They have left
a bloody trail on the
weeping grass.
Satish Verma, 5 april 2022
More searing―
in fog of love.
You prepare the first draft―
of suicide.
It was not in your
handwriting from the left,
before sending―
the message.
The crash of the drone
before hitting the ground.
I apologize to sun for―
the brilliant fault.
I will never know
what did I give you.
My tulips were ravaged
by the statecraft of the winds.
Satish Verma, 4 april 2022
Like toothache.
Would hear the voices
of dark.
No beginning, no end.
I will not conclude.
Like the setting sun in west
dying beautifully―
without moon.
It is a chilling confession.
No offending. Trying to
understand unmoving lips.
In my suffering
there was no faith healing.
I won't ask your hand.
Every syntax, regenerates
the truth of the dirty mind.
Living amidst the
dangers of orthopedic blunders
you cannot walk straight.
The queen has gone insane.
Satish Verma, 3 april 2022
The lips will speak
without sound.
A tuliped man hangs himself
down, from a tall tree of fame.
You wanted to live in the―
glare of slit throats.
The blood brings the brilliant
glitter of gold.
End of the speech will―
throw up a mascot. The noose was
tightening around the―
rising― glorious sun.
Slavery never ends. You
become victim of your dazzling
peaks, when you stand alone
at unthinkable heights.
The spirit of the tree dies in your eyes.
Satish Verma, 2 april 2022
In deep bottom,
at first light, I
will give you a call.
Because, I was only bones,
muscles worn out in hymns
and the nudes were―
putting on the masks.
You will not deliver―
a denial, nor you will
put forward the Buddhist stance.
Like a curling fern you
want to go in dark shade―
eyes shut.
The circus of stunted men
and lady birds―
will go on unabated.
I swear by fire,
The battered umbilicus will
not bear any gods.
A miraculous escape. I
will not eat your
flesh, hot and red.
We start hitting each other
Scott Clark, 1 april 2022
Lit’l child, were ya ben
O’er the Sun or with yar kin.
O’ May’e with yar friends jamin.
Scott Clark, 1 april 2022
Colden’d touch, eyes a stare
Loved one’s gone, tis unfair. Unfair. Unfair.
Mine arms could not reach in that darkened lair.
It has her there. Her there. Her there.
I pray my kisses softened that dreadful pang.
May this n’er happen again. Again. Again.
Scott Clark, 1 april 2022
At times I see you afar, in mind’s eye,
Calling this heart and affording a sigh.
A bit o’ pause, a bit o’ rush.
Listen girl, the silence…now hush.
Ah, that my tears had wings!
And my grief be heavenward
My soul bluely sings
A price none could afford.
Tears are never bought nor sold
Yet they are sweet, precious and never grow old.
Scott Clark, 1 april 2022
In the morning air you can smell them bloom,
Those bless’t sweet Roses,
Beyond a bitter room.
Could tear- filled eyes can ever sway
Those lovely things on a lonely day?
Scott Clark, 1 april 2022
Breathe o’er here, oh, Constant Blue and let those lips be fair!
Blow yer fife fine, tickle this ear, and let yer nothing be new!
Ida, find that blowing sucker and give ‘em less than full
Whilst I dance me merry twiddle feet round and round ‘da stool.
Poetry
Prose
Photography
Graphics
Video poems
Postcards
Diary
Books
Handmade
