An Emotional Encounter

I don't speak
don't move the hands. Don't need
any grief. Lets go.

Life is revengeful.
It takes a price, if you are not able
to understand it as a separation.

The distance deflects.
I reach the smell of dying love. At
last this was the encounter with an angel.

Satish Verma

Voices Return

A pain avoids me.
Eyes speak. Like eagles. What
I am inside, it is outside.

The ache of a long
night, waiting for the worse
to do it, the break between grief and heart.

I feel, the dust is
covering the memories. It was red,
when you open the book of love.

Satish Verma

What was My Dream?

My blood belongs
to you. How will you make the bones
of a poe? Revenge. What is that?

You come and go
like a colossus. The floor trembles.
and earth sinks. Anyone will bury you in a hole?

You are not yourself
There is a hidden fire to test the truth
of your existence. Colossi will sing.

Satish Verma

Can you Charm a Snake

My love was very
tall. The trees gossip. Move around
Is it not eerie? There was virgin death.

Immaculate. My poem
believes. No god will save you. I am
floating on a bubble.

An angel and beast.
We will not enter a mausoleum.
Lights are put off. After 5 years my sleep eds.

Satish Verma

Love Has Many Names

Ah, this was my
salvation. I am giving away a part
of my brain to you. The others are bruised.

The affair will not
survive in the patronage of care and giving
the heart. I sit and talk to my pain.

My shadow, don't
walk with me. I don't need to build
milestones. I have to move eternally.

Satish Verma

Chilled in Coexistence

Genderism. Would you
like the death of it? The body always
rules the heart. My summary increases.

This was a turbulent
writing, opening the skin of living
pain. I am not your shadow on water.

Life is very treacherous.
When you hate me, I love you, and
invite you to fight without tears.

Satish Verma

Pain of History

My love had criss-
crossed. Again my old home has
come. The stream of memory gives a wash.

Not of virtue of
age. You don't want to live in this
time. Broke by tragedy, the dream dies.

The vampire of hate
drinks the blood of an innocent, who
forgets to pay homage to the god of fire.

Satish Verma