Uneven Path
It was a summer night.
A windswept moonbeam
plummeted. Sexualizing
an indigo flesh. A butcher
was seducing
a spider, in company of
a holy book. Sunbathing in
mass grave of skulls. The eyes
peeking out of the caps.
You want to pluck the blue
berries from
volcano mounts. The key player
will burn your script. Body
of milk died on snow. The
moth was coming out of cocoon.
poem by Satish Verma
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Chaste Tree
A poem writes my name.
I am trembling
on paper like salt.
Flowing like moon
on the black wound.
The lamb and the skull.
I know the saint
invented by masses.
You need a fresh awakening.
A vastness from nothing to nothing.
Later the pebbles will dance
on the bay of death.
Sometimes the scales were jinxed,
sometimes the weight was light.
I was sitting under a chaste tree.
poem by Satish Verma
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
A Lifelong Journey
On the night when vessel
was empty
grackle did not sing.
For the sake of honey,
smelling a dead city, after
the rape of a daughter.
A black buck jumps on the
queen of roses, stoned after
the death of a green house.
A python had wrapped around
the child on bed,
come, save the red crying moon.
A soft drizzle wets the eyes.
I can see only stars -
disturbed by the winds.
poem by Satish Verma
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Dirt Roads
It was a mediocre crowd.
You wanted to touch-
unblemished,
ordinary thing.
After he was drunk
he threw the blanket
and started,
a hate crime.
There was dark smoke
without fire. You can draw
a frame around the singed face.
I will not taste the blood.
The death will come again
to find the lover, after he
jumped from the bridge. There
were thousand ways to seek revenge.
poem by Satish Verma
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
No Telling
A severed head sits upright on mud floor
coruscating in moonlight. It was a meditating
Buddha with eyes downcast after a perfect death.
With indecent exposure there was no artifact
to celebrate. The steel was rusted and the name
erased from the asylum.
You walk like a stranger in your home,
possessed, in merciless purity. The greatness
of unbeliever touches a giant guilt.
poem by Satish Verma
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
A Hermit
Over the lake
moon was hounded out
from the dark clouds
into the defying blues.
The thick orbit hauled up the debris
of falling stars.
I was watching the crowd of centuries
piling up in history.
Global heat was settling
on the flutings
to start a black magic
of secret fear.
A hermit sitting on a glacier
melts into a cave.
God knows how the stunned
colossus will stand up.
poem by Satish Verma
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Dignity
There was existence,
without space.
I was afraid of my unborn child.
Inheriting the stammer
of history
I could not think of any brand abuse.
On the contrary, fumes
throw you off the road.
Full moon rising on the cleft.
I was, as I am, never being
to any threat of drowning
in contradictions.
A dignity in withdrawl
and coming back after sunset –
to walk in night, alone.
poem by Satish Verma
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Visitor
The wait begins adorned with symbols
for shadow to fall
between hope and pretention.
The moon will talk
when the dew returns
and clouds are hiding.
He will come in a black cloak
for a final assault
with broken promises.
Is he untouchable?
You cannot embrace him?
Walks like a ghost between me and you.
Our past, open-eyed, the truth
happens on road
in crowd, in our home.
poem by Satish Verma
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Honey Mooner
There was a silky assault
by a gray cloud over the sickle moon
and I went crazy.
Moon said I will come again
for the glittering makeup
when the curtain are drawn.
Indelible tattoos on my breast
will haunt you whole night.
You must suck the stars meanwhile.
Come March, I will shower the
blue stains on your shirt.
It will remind you the number of nights
you slept with me.
poem by Satish Verma
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Howling
Before I leave
I will give you my gift
to perceive the human anguish.
Time had passed like a snake
noiselessly, skipping the years
I grieved.
The solace of harvesting the dreams
was thin.
A terrible shadow of a futile
creation.
Hopes always lied
hollowed by anesthesia of truth.
A surrogate womb trims
the love.
My garden was always green.
Howling was generating the heat.
poem by Satish Verma
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!