What Ending?

Could not hold it, put it down.
TIME.
The words forget you, pass by.
You remain standing on the brink.
Now, now, where to go?

Time avenges, walks on you
and you cannot catch the breath,
to fill the space between life and death
life will not move, death will not stop.
If not ready to live, death will not look like you
you will not look like death.

World changes every thing,
when seeing stops, listening begins
losing threads of me, between you and me
between me and you.
Something grows out of the mud
a new star.

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poem by Satish Verma
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All I Remember

Your world collapses A name shies of comeback
breaks the water for bare bones unaligned you
hunker down for the happenings didnot fit

in the shoes of black magic it was a damned
reversal of the pygmies to become tall the old city
dies on the hill young steps start a never ending

descent of the wheels can you stop this vintage flow
in night king was sitting without a glass
rolling stones were laughing after the conversation

and the sons of soil smashed the barriers
after the illumination cacti become prominently displayed
in the jungle of weeds wearing nightgowns of thorns

two headed snakes lapping up the milk from the teats
of a moon the cow jumps on the hemlocks amidst
the cries of children of tomorrow

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poem by Satish Verma
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Waking Is Painful

Reading the innocence of leaves,
a tree, yellow stars,
I was always glad of new birth
and another death. Ceasation
did not repeat itself.
I hold the nightmare, hypnotized.
Pride without flame, ending in smoke,
until you come at dawn
like an echo in silence.

At process of transmutation
old memories are indelible
stains the solitude,
when I am in retreat, to awake the silence.
The wilderness haunts
the morning glory of creation.
Hope imitates the wings
for a brief time. Waking is painful.

In attachment to walls,

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poem by Satish Verma
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Stuffed Silence

Winds define the path now, in order not to submit
the discovery of another guilt.
The glory stumbles.
Before the altar, man becomes a souvenir.
Mechanically you walk like a robot, proud and erect,
cannot commit suicide.

Secret of discovering a faith was, not to kill yourself.
Shivering in awakened reality,
you grope with cauterized vision,
to resolve the conflict.
The revelation does not come.
Unchained freedom will come late,
when you become the destiny.

Everseeking a revolution, brain will find a false excuse.
The archives do not give a clue,
not exactly the circumstances,
but history collected the dirt.
Concepts could not bring out,

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poem by Satish Verma
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House Of Rains

Hold the innocence,
at brink of sliding death.
Formless learning never answers
the questions of life
and truth. A single meaning
connects to unnumbered voices.
Anarchy of rimless vision
flourishes. I trace out
the pink stain of a murder on the sand.

Going beyond the fear
was a sane thought
I was the pain
and I was the truth.
Life presided over
the hyphenated relationship.
What do I do with the broken mirror?
The severed head of sun
trembles in the mid - afternoon.
Light of the east fading?

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poem by Satish Verma
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Unfathomable

After lifting the fingerprints of bloodbath
a bushfire starts, engulfing contradictions,
the gulf between erosion of truth and
survivors appears widening. Tiny ants smell

blood, exfoliation begins, from
nameless earth for the exodus of barefoot,
the epic of tragedy, something in the debris is left
for acetic reminder, a death reunion.

The pain starts the saddest saga of human
suffering, a salt lake melting in each eye and then in
every courtroom the defence for the crimes, bail -
out by the buried dark sniffing of fecundity.

The night wraps me, the land of my birth
haunts in its greenness, the wounded sea bids
refugees to hostile shores, a cracked sun
welcomes the lost umbical cords.

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poem by Satish Verma
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Passion Is A Hurricane

Ending of the thought
does not bring a lull.
It is a sequel beyond
my reach. An old extrication,
I dig for my roots.
The forgotten names,
the unhealing wounds of a doctrine,
a tiny memory of pulsating embryo,
not yet born!

Fear generates a kill. Ferocious movement
inside the cells slowly,
you become zero without a center.
The tangent skips
on your surface. Claustrophobia.
You start breaking the walls.
Fighting anxiety & shame
a timeless timber without a foliage.

My ignition point is hurt in

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poem by Satish Verma
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Bell’s Palsy

Recalling memories was difficult.
I presume, today was not my day.
Theme uprooted, I stood for the branches,
the spirit, the truth, the roots.
Do I see more than what was needed?

Only eyes to eyes speak without words, sound,
vision or reality.
All the flowers have shed their petals. Now
seeds are shining. I feel liberated. The
faultline has defiled me. Bilingual insult.
Time leaves the questions in air, suspended.
You have to find the answers, yourself, in the
debris of arguments.

Bell’s palsy. Face, lips distorted, lids drooping,
speech slurred, you clog
the brain with help of anti-depressants,
how many endings you have seen?

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poem by Satish Verma
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You And Everybody

Again you made friends, words
wanted to leave the paper blank
for the parched lips,
crying eyes,
trembling hands.

Missing stanzas,
flowing river,
rootless floats.
You did not feel like-
time filled you every minute,
you were empty, poor.

When you read the end
you understood beginning.
Will to die was not sufficient
you had not completed the script.
Alone in crowd you wanted words
to commit suicide.

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poem by Satish Verma
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Seasonal Priorities

Effortlessly a desire erects
a monument. One flaw
demolishes the image. Stones,
ugly grass & a solitary tree
make the landscape.
Hundreds of seeds go back
to the earth’s womb, never
to sprout. Heartbroken
I stand in the middle
of life, crumbling alone.

How can we change?
A splash of green
ingests a scissor,
that is not enough. A parallel tragedy
strikes. Sun and flowers
are gone, seeking a truth,
not yet conceived. A timeless
fire burns in the temple,
uncovering the heat,

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poem by Satish Verma
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