Damned
Discarded, on a heap of broken
ceramics, a rotten tooth wants an
award, for biting the snake.
Who was pulling the strings?
The temper of a black moon
beguiles the sun. The green-pathway
was hidden under the rock.
Who was holding the baby?
I am again bewitched by my own
failures. Searching my legs under
the bush, my wodden self cries.
Who was asking the question?
poem by Satish Verma
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Deep Understanding
Tilted lips on the wet eyes.
Below the lids
was floating an island in a lake.
Latched to a full moon
I was trotting with snowshoes,
trekking with stars.
A volatile virginity
rebounds
ticking in your heart, spiteful.
And I, lonely as a black hill
seek the silver dew
that moons the green windows.
O malignant night
I was not worthy of death
you bestowed on me.
poem by Satish Verma
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Ecstasy
A pink rose was set to strip
letting the leaves fall.
The roots were jealous of a thorn
for stealing the blood from heart.
It was the last page of a book,
no more commas, no full stop.
The dead tongue now seeks syntax
of the lips that smell like enemies.
Two hard little breasts start a dance
like geraniums on bush.
Between the shadows of thighs
slept the pride.
poem by Satish Verma
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Under The Mist
Aggressive posture of silence
sweeps the mind.
I preempt the drowning of septum
in calving ice.
The ostium ultimately opens
to spill over the therapy.
You go into the cave-
to pull out the new born thought.
The day runs again for bread-
and butter. There are
no holds barred. It
was an intact valve.
But the heart blew away
the soft feathers.
I cannot fly now.
poem by Satish Verma
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Collected Thoughts
Like tussoh, I collect snow
after the blizzard, churning
the quartz, O December.
Time to hang my boots
and listen the call to quarters.
Windows would kill me.
I had my horrors
I had my wine.
The moon was still calling.
My thumb bleeds
for white skin of sun.
Who was depressed in night?
The collateral damage
is bound to happen; if drones
don’t listen to me.
poem by Satish Verma
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Walking Into You
Tonight
the nectar will be spread
to tame a random tormentor.
Black and white,
I never saw my father weeping.
Lonely he was.
I am
my own creation today
weather beaten. Confession to -
confession, unread. When the-
storm was tethered,
there was flooding and neck deep-
you were in tears. Am cannibalizing
my own poems, to write a new line.
It was a midnight moon.
poem by Satish Verma
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Meaningless
The shift to vernal tone
starts a standoff with eyelashes.
A sickle moon begins
harpooning the stars.
The unorthodox microlove
brings out a ciliated canon
of faithless interior. The gods
were going to become weary of snowfall.
Punctuating the silence, words
again scream, fly like eagles
in the valley of wounds. How far
the fire will go engulfing the untouchable?
poem by Satish Verma
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Stoking
Just a sip on verge,
man was eating a mountain,
forgetting carnations.
A peacock sits on the belly
of a torchbearer
for a credible crime.
One Buddha fails today.
Turns around
and goes back to his princess.
Give me blood money
to kill myself
for sitting under a bo tree.
I do not seek any bliss, do not need any home.
The stoker will not stop hurling the insults.
poem by Satish Verma
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Stonewashed
It laps up the solitude.
A flame hits the stonewall
of silence.
A dust cloud, covers
the finale of conflict.
Nobody wins the race.
You arrogate to yourself
the skill to accept the heat of argument.
Can you reach the end of thought?
Ravishing black
picks up the fallen moon.
Somebody will go green.
If I could walk on
the lake? The faithless will
wreck the pledge.
poem by Satish Verma
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The End
Lines on forehead are deepening.
No signs of abatement
of fire in our bellies.
The hunger we inherited
is only comforting
the mouthless.
Broken laughs.
Strange bedfellows
chopping off the murals from the lips.
A body rots,
stinks.
Maggots fly.
Negotiations are still on.
Who will dissect the legend
to find the cause of death?
[...] Read more
poem by Satish Verma
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