Satish Verma, 11 lutego 2023
This saga follows
the stargazing of one
buried ethos.
Where the words stop
to transcreate the ruins of
hymnic heritage.
You cannot change
the world. World will change you
at the end of gaze.
Satish Verma, 10 lutego 2023
Coming of age
in dark waters of thoughts―
to swipe the moon.
Half-bread was
not sufficient for the earth.
We need some sky.
Words don't come
easy, from the scythe, to draw
a line on face.
Satish Verma, 9 lutego 2023
Don't bury my pain
in your sad blinking eyes.
It won't fill the void.
Who was evolved
from a cruel beast into
a human being?
Some pieces of
divinity survive in the
bright passion flowers.
Satish Verma, 8 lutego 2023
The lunacy of
touching you, to plug a―
hole, in your innocence.
I wanted to explore
the horizon in your eyes,
where sun meets moon,
in graveyard of sins
and virtues.
Before you had become
my shadow, I used to smell
a distant scent coming
from a slithering
wet body.
I fumble for the words
for mercy of pain. My desert
was once a sea.
Satish Verma, 7 lutego 2023
To begin again,
the travesty of understanding
life.
A mole, a warton
the face of fractured psyche,
I will never know you.
Generations bleed,
to feed the corpse flower―
of fraternity. I go
insane.
Going beyond the
touch of your life, I begin
to shred my forbidden
sin.
You know what
was classic love, to burn
like a moth on flame.
Satish Verma, 6 lutego 2023
Stay till end of
my poem, for
dying sun.
Howling winds searched
my body, my soul
when I stood alone.
The blue scorpion knows
its religion. That was predation.
Landfall for hungry.
If the blood leaks,
the victim sings for moksha.
Milking starts.
The golden leaves
are peeled off from the moon.
No night was safe.
Satish Verma, 5 lutego 2023
Didn't agree to
sell the dream, for afterlife.
There was dread of
crossing the graves.
Moon intends to
come one step closer, to
find your candor. The innards
wouldn't take off the veil.
There was no iconic
shadow. Hope was fading.
Time to confront the unexpected
assault. Light enters from a crack.
What could be a
second coming of realization
on week legs, in twilight
of disturbing truths?
I am holding the mirror
at a distance.
Satish Verma, 4 lutego 2023
Weeping asokas were talking.
Only THE Plato will tell
the truth about republic.
I was shaken like
dew drops on grass in whirlwind.
No end of unending.
Moon goes on rampage.
When will you meet me in charisma
of midnight September?
Mankind will not
change. The stones roll down
to remain afloat in river.
Take off your hand
from my shoulder. You have
to go for a long journey
without me.
Satish Verma, 3 lutego 2023
Truth survived between us.
You were my anthem―
in dying light.
Like a crucible, the
absent moon, fills it with a poem.
Maybe you will find the signs.
That the illusion
transcends the truth, and
becomes blue.
Who will be born―
again in the ambit of
slavery and deliverance?
Ah, the tragedy
of life was, to give
away the honey to insectivores.
Satish Verma, 1 lutego 2023
How would you retrieve
the soul of moon? There was
not enough darkness.
Long back, the ink
was always black, and
the words would tremble
like aspen.
The echo comes
loudly resounding the green
valley's anguish.
Don't hit me,
by a vivid farewell. Buried
one's head in poems
somebody walks through you.
The wound had been― still raw.
A panther jumps on the antelope.
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