Satish Verma, 22 listopada 2022
Your eyes return
to haunt me like falling
vultures. I am burning
like Vega.
You had shot down
the wrong prophecy. My
candle burns whole night to search
the lost ring.
Blame of tears
was fading. Larkspurs would
miss the delphiniums. Deception
attracts the crowd. Colors blend.
Concealing the wall
yellow lilies try to bluff me
from underground. Spring was
still afar.
The second existence
was not possible. Trying to
go again for a trial.
Satish Verma, 21 listopada 2022
The big toe
like some ego, breaks the syntax.
You cannot climb the poem.
Time knows,
whom to possess, when the thought
moves out of the mind.
Words were missing
from your teeth. You won't
bite the moon.
Black lips print
a kiss on white forefront, intersecting
past and future.
You learn to
become still in witch hunt
of a lost thread of sacred kill.
Indeed you discover
Yourself, reading the myth of modern
Sisyphus and floating rock.
Satish Verma, 20 listopada 2022
What would you like
to wear, when oracle's
prophecy comes true.
Temple of pure love
was coming up, but there
was no deity.
You wouldn't think,
what I was thinking often.
Last night I slapped myself.
The black moon
rattles, after its message
goes into flames.
Can you talk
in piecemeals, surrounded
by smokescreen of words?
A baby nightingale
sings awkwardly. There
were clouds, no rains.
Satish Verma, 19 listopada 2022
How far you can go
to remain dumb and dare
to become legless?
Show me the spirit
once. The streak,
the clouds.
I will leave my
footprints in rose-garden
for you to follow my scent.
Neighborhood of
stilts. I wanted to stand
erect in marshes.
The time shrinks,
when you grow old. Years
come and go with generosity.
Take off the frame
of your mind. I wanted
to read your last wish.
Satish Verma, 17 listopada 2022
Blindfolded I groped,
to cross the line―
not to become carnivore.
The gorge was deep.
I turn cold. The echo of
silence boomed in fatherless
seeds of mercy.
I will warn myself,
and ask why was there transcendence,
when the impulse was
to hang?
Thinking of truth
was difficult. Your footsoles
develop blisters. No home
was in sight.
Accepting the challenge
you start searching the
temples where deities were
dismembered.
Satish Verma, 15 listopada 2022
Keep the passion
to reach the moon.
One day the unspeaking
tongue will reveal―
the heart of the terminally
ill earth.
How often you create
new verbs between death
and birth of democracy.
Two sides of a coin. You
take turn to kiss the hands
of benevolent god.
The missed heartbeats
will search the language
of anonymous.
Why do you want to
go unsung?
Satish Verma, 12 listopada 2022
My nascent distress flourishes
under the diktat of unknown. Can you
tell me your history of fall?
The questioner fails to
put up the right questions. You were
inquisitive, but I was not understood.
Why does the hate develop between
the words and the meanings? I suffer
when I am numb. You suffer to open your mouth.
Satish Verma, 10 listopada 2022
I don't want to
be a winner. My words
are bleeding.
A dangerous god
manipulates the universe.
Everything will come to dust
and ice.
What does the silence
say? You need to erect a
god's temple on funeral ground?
Donate your blood
for heaven's sake. The
oceans are boiling.
Such wisdom of
no use? Stop thinking to
invade the stars.
Perhaps the burning days
will forgive us.
Satish Verma, 9 listopada 2022
A danger looms
large, permeating in
eyes, arms and legs.
This was an
ethnic divide of the body
for different hurts.
My voice doesn't
reach you. Still I was
calling you from thick fog.
Some galaxies are
half-eyed. Come follow me,
I will show you a burning comet
with a heart of ice.
Dust takes revenge.
One day burning glass
will ask the price of living.
I knew you will
attack from within to
become a ghost.
How much less
I knew?
Satish Verma, 8 listopada 2022
From within, a
fawned virtue follows
the breath, I spell
your name.
The cymosed
surrender at the feet
of a tall god was disgrace.
I will know the incoming stranger.
Spotless in dark,
your words breed. There
was something mysterious
displaying the grains in daylight.
I will count the golden
rings, in your pink eyes
becoming a ghost.
A wrong step in a
right moment, you become
a prisoner of a cell, with
no key.
From the ending
a new race begins.
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