Satish Verma, 28 maja 2024
You want to go
extinct, dying of love
hormone. I will
Be strong to honor
the dignity of the human
patience in flames.
It hots up. The wild
conflict, between give and
take of god's kiss.
Satish Verma, 27 maja 2024
Moon was looking
in my eyes. Time to sink my
ship coming apart.
Sunset was visible.
Don't want to give a chance
to write off pen.
Ironic. Shifting
away from peace. Why turn
to black hole?
Satish Verma, 26 maja 2024
Listen to silence
of pain of heart, where
sun cannot reach.
Write to me a letter
in calligraphy. I want to
sleep in words arms.
I will not explore
any relationship for any
amorous signs.
Satish Verma, 25 maja 2024
Lips collide. I
smear the memories on
your forehead.
Will you wake up
one day for me to rewrite
the mercy of wounds?
How shall we meet
before or after the demise
of cooling sun?
Satish Verma, 24 maja 2024
The sage of tree
sits cross-legged under the
shade of dilemma.
Would you pray for
me when the thick forest
of hope catches fire?
Between mantras and
peace, comes the bifid tongue.
Half truth and half lie.
Satish Verma, 23 maja 2024
The sage of tree
sits cross-legged under the
shade of dilemma.
Would you pray for
me when the thick forest
of hope catches fire?
Between mantras and
peace, comes the bifid tongue.
Half truth and half lie.
Satish Verma, 22 maja 2024
You have lost
the innocence. Rainbow
will spread the news.
Word's power splits
the enigmas. The pain connects
the blood of limbs.
The yellow roses
grieve for the silken hold
of dying charisma.
Satish Verma, 21 maja 2024
The contradiction
of winds on the tall dome
gives luxury of fall.
You step into fire,
and walk through the flames
to test the truth.
Threadbare life
was beautiful. There was
nothing left to give.
Satish Verma, 20 maja 2024
There was no
blasphemy. Love gives
power to forgive.
Vestigial pain
was insulting. You always
feel a presence.
Beauty was intact.
You were sleeping on wings.
Bird was not ready to fly.
Satish Verma, 19 maja 2024
If you come near
the moon, you will find the
collective grief.
Someone sets free
hundreds of fireflies
to begin talk with me.
The angels are
becoming boneless. Your throne
is dirty. Temple sobs.
Regulamin | Polityka prywatności
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