Satish Verma, 9 february 2024
What an artifice. The
invisible becomes visible. I am not
what you are. That was Arte Povera?
When violence erupts
you won't stand like praying mantis,
waiting for a self portrait in an innocent pause?
As like Cleopatra, you
suspend in air like a hummingbird
asking, what would be the next terror without blood?
Satish Verma, 7 february 2024
Wanted to dip my
pen in light and draw
your face in golden lines
on dark clouds.
The time announces the
arrival of spirit. You land
like butterfly, on the
lips of voila for seconds
and fly away.
But you did not come
to say goodbye.
The bell tolls for
no one. Nobody dies today
to celebrate the departure
of death― gracefully.
I lived dangerously.
Satish Verma, 6 february 2024
Disappointed.
I look at my hands to
read your destiny.
I fall to kiss the
moon dust. You were
my desire in sleep.
The spirit hovers
like the golden eagle
to rest the talons.
I stop the game.
Some cards had remained
undealt. I win, I lose.
You were not the
angel. You were not the mortal.
Where do I put my relief?
Satish Verma, 5 february 2024
Between ethics and
ethos, your truth is very sad. The
pierced rose bouquet bleeds.
Like fawns in a blood
room. I don't know how to treat
life, when you are impersonal.
The art of annihilation
is known to everyone. Naked as blue
whale. The sea horse always stands.
Satish Verma, 4 february 2024
Unravished the
black moon was down
but not out.
I am being watched.
How the poem
prints itself on heart.
Curled up with
flower thoughts, staring
aimlessly in black void.
Wanted a brutally
honest truth, moon struck
but ready to give blond.
Who was desireless
being a saint. Paradox
always wins.
Satish Verma, 3 february 2024
Somedays with
human touch, I will talk
to white roses with
blood spots.
This was inner beauty.
The ferns start walking to
cover the wounds of earth.
A sea horse stands
erect in sea to salute
the warship.
Where we are going?
When you don't leave
your thumb print, the song
of nightingale is lost.
How do you want
to die in the hands of
deaf and dumb god?
Satish Verma, 2 february 2024
I am nowhere, living
in an urn. A feeling goes unwritten,
becomes a myth. My innocent body.
More pain, more longing.
Words without ink are printed
on your face. Now a kiss.
Once upon the dilemma was
to search for the last truth. You wanted
to give away your beautiful song.
Satish Verma, 1 february 2024
Let me be myself
in cloud of tears.
A streak of light
breaks the myth
of superlunary, when you
were at war with
leviathans of deep.
When hungry,
you were flawless in art
of love. It wakes you
from old thinking.
Hiding behind fears,
I freeze to wear the death
gown. The words crumble
under the weight of truth.
Life remains beautiful.
I don't want to leave you.
Satish Verma, 31 january 2024
I have not arrived
as yet, to meet myself.
Existence betrays.
After the shock, I
want to ask a question
in trembling voice "Why".
Where the flesh ends
at the edge of bones,
eyes will speak.
Unthinking, I
pick a rose, to prick
my fingers. That was
the truth.
Dying was easier,
than to live. Still I want
to stay back to see
the miracle.
Satish Verma, 29 january 2024
Another weeping star
comes to me. The twin
presence interacts.
Personified.
A pain sits with me.
I split into shards.
A spooky boom.
Water bends. I kiss
your scream.
White night.
Acacia breaks,
roots won't move.
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