Satish Verma, 16 marca 2024
O moon, when I
stalk you, why do you
bleed the colors?
Calm down. Virginity
is out for lisping. Impaled,
the spirit ― starts dying.
Don't sell the body
of the poem. Can you ask
the songbird to stop?
Satish Verma, 15 marca 2024
Would you remain
you, after the time lapse?
There was no terror.
I could not change
you. Death to me. Scarred
in your courtyard.
Moon shot failed.
Petals of blood rose fly. I
hear some footfalls.
Satish Verma, 14 marca 2024
The mission to
know myself failed.
Accepted the gift of nemesis
I will still breathe.
Every end comes slowly.
Distance makes it easy.
A gorgeous moment helps
in darkest phase.
Myth of invincibility
cracks, in the dawn
of miracles. The vibes take
over the song of shadows.
The trial begins.
You have to prove the depth
of kissing of stings.
Every word was not true.
Satish Verma, 12 marca 2024
Things go beyond your
vision. I transcend gods,
punished by crowds.
Writing history.
I want to disagree
with the story of
headless accession.
The valley has
bloomed indigo. Red
stars in grey sky
start wailing.
When earth moves
in dark. Sun brightens
the saddened face
of kismet.
Satish Verma, 11 marca 2024
A poet's eye
sails from room to room.
Do you know which wall
opened to devour my love?
I had wished to see
the femineity of moon risen.
It had burned my
lips like cinders.
In very dark time
big China roses were waiting
to honour the anonymous
author of gravity.
I don't hear your
voice in cloudburst.
Fragile poems will cry―
if you don't open the fist.
Satish Verma, 10 marca 2024
Pain indigo of
half-moon, will travel
from head to toes.
You cannot carry
your own weight on rocks
of life without tears
Of mortification.
Perhaps one day you slip
the crude slaying.
Satish Verma, 9 marca 2024
I promise
I will not write your
name, on black wall
of brutal moon.
Your footprints
after walking on―
burning coals
still smell of cologne.
Your presence
sits in my poems. Do
we become human after
separation?
Don't hurl the questions.
There are no burning answers
in my hand. The truth was
dying between the words.
Satish Verma, 8 marca 2024
I could not mediate.
God died in my home. Osho
was talking brazenly?
What you are, I
ask myself. The sleeping
moon knows my falls.
Who unmade the
beautiful dream of a
stricken angel's rise?
Satish Verma, 6 marca 2024
Blue planet
remains sad. Nowadays
moon rises late.
A perpetual messenger,
grey sky, writes an
accidental poem.
I read the saddened
moon's face to condole
the river, for the loss
of its unique lover.
Let me watch the
return of the assassin
after ejecting the venom.
I will ride over
my demons now. Nothing
was left to remember.
Satish Verma, 5 marca 2024
Something was sinister
in beautiful night.
The sharks come stealthily
in your eyes.
The apparition has
no vision. It springs
surprises. The angels put
on the masks.
You look like a
mannequin rolling the
eyes. Small battles start
between the aspirants.
I feel very lonely,
Words would suggest, but
not explain. I was
afraid of losing the truth.
Regulamin | Polityka prywatności
Copyright © 2010 truml.com, korzystanie z serwisu oznacza akceptację regulaminu.
Poezja
Proza
Fotografia
Grafika
Wideo wiersz
Pocztówka
Dziennik
Książki
Handmade
