Hubble Turns 20
O Hubble
what was the need,
to discover, to go beyond
for it.
It was here
in our hearts,
the dark energy.
When hearing would be lost.
I will go extraplanetory
to find the truth
of star birth.
On earth everyday a star is born..
On hundred light-years
down in a bottomless pit.
The contusion brings out the stale
abuses. No kindness for even gods.
poem by Satish Verma
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Serial Depletion
Effectively in givenness;
stranger in one’s own house
you search the detritus for a lost face.
Stay closer to me, O walls
I am catching fire. Draw the blood from
my veins and taste me.
The otherworldly glow
of the compound was a testimony:
you cannot buy democracy.
What would you do
with the waste of technology
standing on a heap of shoes?
poem by Satish Verma
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Ninth Month
Goose-stepping on a soul song
you set the sky ablaze,
and I was not ready to welcome you.
I was hungry and I was thirsty
but could not find the road.
Back and forth, back and forth
walking with the toad. You can guess
my predicament when I said
that, I am, not I would
assult on the chaste fruit
of the moon, growing on the
tall tree of September.
poem by Satish Verma
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Burning Across The Sky
Like a stingray it stung me tonight
the new moon.
A live flame lobbing the sparks.
The seduction had bypassed
the sleezy love
of white egrets.
When are you going
to make a history
by failing to fall?
Can I touch your blue veins
my moon?
They had been aching to step out.
When beast and passion
meet in the blue-faced sky
you start a belly dance.
poem by Satish Verma
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It Comes
Waiting under the opaque moon
a primeval instinct takes over you
and you start arriving.
A black bone
renders the ash on your forehead
and you complete the circle –
reaching childhood; you start
climbing the ladder,
for instantaneous release.
The insects don’t forget the trail;
you were bleeding from inside.
You were never alone in a crowd.
poem by Satish Verma
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It Does Not Matter
After a face – off
you toss the coin
resenting the liquid fame.
Frame extracts the price
of picture.
Compassion for the artist was missing.
I suffer in mid moon
between darkness and light
clarity of rags was improving.
Homage is now going to hurt
after the fall of ego, in
ending of alchemy.
In spite or sorrow
a face drills holes
in my wheels.
poem by Satish Verma
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The Candle Burns
Not a single word added today
to my tinsel book. The brown eyes
were searching my smile.
You want to close the happening
of first moon and the fig.
My roses start a new dialect,
waiting on the clouds, almost
in rains, spreading the wetting
agent between the eyes.
The distance was the most crucial
thing, that does not end;
endlessly stretching.
poem by Satish Verma
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impact
Turns me on
I will write a poem.
Delirious moon had
picked me up from under the skin.
The safety pin was broken,
now a crowd will disrobe me.
Everytime when my pain makes you cry
oranges are not meant for the sale.
A collegium will stich up the wound.
Once upon a caste the country will go.
[...] Read more
poem by Satish Verma
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Burnt Out Words
Tryst with nano was like burning in hell.
Headless body of truth,
turning into invisible particles
flaunts an absent God.
The mist envelops a rag picker –
sleeping on the payment.
Hunger fresh grown will be served,
when sun rises.
Indelible ink an yellow pages
bearing the burden of unborn grief
inherits this globe, the ashes
of burnt out words.
poem by Satish Verma
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Burnt Taste
A cyan globe
rolling in the black sky.
I was visualizing
an earthset
on the horizon.
Lianas
threw a noose
around my neck.
Did I
start the fires?
My dissent
was of any relevance?
Who was standing
on the moon?
Self-centered was your vision
I was trying
to turn the tide.
[...] Read more
poem by Satish Verma
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