Satish Verma, 5 listopada 2024
Again my heart
breaks. The light has dimmed
in moon. There was no mandate.
A knock at death's
door. I had slept in your arms.
Slept in your songs.
Don't remain mum.
It hurts the ethos. Mortal
injury comes to poetics.
Satish Verma, 4 listopada 2024
You had tightened
the grip. I hit a rough patch.
All night you remained in my thoughts.
I will not bid you
good night, because you will
not leave me.
I refuse to go, you
refuse to come. When will we
meet to undo the sins?
Satish Verma, 3 listopada 2024
My maiden guilt
interprets your mysterious signs
I become a moon orbiter.
Your body moves
like an eel in my eyes.
Blue lakes sleep.
Let the candle in wind
go.The gift was not understood.
Pink flames rage again.
Satish Verma, 2 listopada 2024
Your coins don't
make noises. Absolutely
shocking in damp air.
Love in pieces. My
skin burns, without flames
when you kiss the thorns.
Worst was not enough
I want to drink hemlock
to turn my neck blue.
Satish Verma, 1 listopada 2024
You have taken back
what you had given to me.
I offer my sleep to your eyes.
Shared pain was tangled.
Love takes the defeat.The temple
is demolished under moon.
A chandelier crashes
with piercing noise.Pink glow
vanishes from the cheeks of sun.
Satish Verma, 31 października 2024
Give me some love
plants, like viola and ferns.
Don't bend the fish, let her go.
Is it not like mountain
sickness? I cannot climb the steep
rise to see the burning world?
Let us celebrate the
golden month April.We may not live
next day to smellmoon flowers.
Satish Verma, 30 października 2024
The animal wakes
in you, when moon cries.
I bend to lift the sun.
Blood has no Dharma.
I sit as an amber fossil.The
ripple in dust will not take it.
I am worrird about you.
The mating between words
gets ready to fight stigma.
Satish Verma, 29 października 2024
When your suffering
drops by, something dies in me.
A cluster of stings-
Brings the anaphylactic
shock.I look at the faces to find
out, how many times god cries.
Don't write me on
your lips like an ephemeral
smoke rising frome the castle.
Satish Verma, 28 października 2024
Something was wrong.
I cannot catch your sleeve
after timeless fight.
Standing under the
pine, you wait for the cloud
birth in water.
The sun begins to shut
the eyes. Will die red before the
moon rises.
Satish Verma, 27 października 2024
A dream without
a dreamer wants to reach
birth pain.
Where would you
go in dark to taste the
secret right to burn?
A corona of scented
thorns on your head attracts
the queen bees.
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