Satish Verma, 18 stycznia 2023
You had failed me―
god, when angst was burning
my fingers to write.
A poem. Mauve-blue
lips go into a seizure,
to fight the demons.
Delphinium's spur
trembles without any wind. An
angel has fallen.
Satish Verma, 17 stycznia 2023
Mysterious weather.
You cannot breath in rose
garden. Time crawls.
You cannot smile.
The raid on cuckoo's nest was
disastrous. No eggs.
You can see through
walls. Undressing was a ritual
to shed all the norms.
Satish Verma, 16 stycznia 2023
The flame springs to
burn my hand. Blood drips drop
by drop from a hole.
I am signing red.
Inertia sits in the veins.
Do not know any god.
End and beginning
have become one. I will
calculate sins.
Satish Verma, 15 stycznia 2023
To my horror, you
become a seadragon
and carry my legacy.
With kiss of flames,
the unique courtship ends.
Not to touch again.
How sparkling teeth
bite pink flesh, to taste
angel of sea.
Satish Verma, 14 stycznia 2023
Escorting the ache
for a bath in tears for
the sake of feel.
Love was moving
towards west. Angst of living
on the sands of time.
This was killing. He
will celebrate the blurred
vision of bright sun.
Satish Verma, 13 stycznia 2023
Between the hills,
were you ready for a
snakebite ritual?
What was the choice
between a triangle and
a silver dewdrop?
The birthmark swells
after taste of venom.
Silent prayer fails.
Satish Verma, 12 stycznia 2023
Everything begins
with numbers, the curves.
The cleavage drops.
History is written.
Young times. You grow old
in shade of stars.
Brave words carry the
burden of weightless truths.
Moon immolates.
Satish Verma, 11 stycznia 2023
Why incomplete
embrace of death drinking
ambrosia of sin?
It starts from grave.
The vision― to find the truth
of life in absent maths.
A very short poem
will search path. There was no
answer in your eyes.
Satish Verma, 10 stycznia 2023
Your voice has dimmed.
I cannot catch your
beautiful profile.
Wanted to see you,
where you were not present.
O god! who was running
this weird world?
Prepare for a
heat stroke in moonlight.
Naked as a blank paper.
Can you print
the end of unending?
Do not want to call
seers. I will search myself
to know the meaning of
dying gracefully.
Were you ready to become
a silhouette?
Satish Verma, 9 stycznia 2023
The beauty of being
nothing, like the nystagmus.
Do you see me through,
when I break inside?
Won't you release your
white doves to smell
the melting moon
of summer's blues?
Nameless a poem swims
in your pale eyes. I
watch the cobra rear up
like a purple monkshood!
One day I will pay
back your debt, for the
myth of phoenix. I will
live for centuries in the
desert to rise from ashes.
Nobody becomes a conqueror!
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