17 January, 2018

Definitions

Becoming intimate with
pain. Laughing with
death. My pastime.

Then unfold me
to lick the flames. You
and me burn simultaneously.

Why life demands
toll for crossing the river
of ashes and bones?

Like night bird
you hop and stop in neighborhood.
Looking for lithe snake.

September tears.
It was ending after the
red moon bleeds.

Was there any name left for the void?

Satish Verma

Night Blooming

Red moon wets
the eyes. I may not
sing back to trees.

You borrow the
light through negation.
Not by awakening self.

Don't invite the
fear. The Mars was rising
with salty streams of water.

And leave your
book blank. I have
to write again the history of truth.

A pure kill, when
you smile with eyes squinting.
Your lips tell something else.

Don't touch the stone.
It was melting.

Satish Verma

16 January, 2018

Foolish Sparks

You will see and will
not see, at the same moment;
the son of moon,
and daughter of earth―
not meeting at the horizon
of lids.

The hole in the back
of skull was widening. An
atheist becomes a Greek God,
edged out after a heart wrenching
departure.

A trail of blood follows,
after the sharp words pierce
your poems. Dying in pieces,
becomes a daily ritual.

To be different was
very painful, like white mushroom
turning back to black soil.
Who will walk in the footprints of light?

Satish Verma

A Dream

Remembering you
under the palms,
sitting on sand.
Reading William Carlos Williams
"The Red Wheelbarrow"
eating dates.

Celebrating
my unborn poem.

Satish Verma

15 January, 2018

Acid Test

Was it a sorcery?
In broad daylight,
you snatch away the echoes.

Now I am shodowless.
Walking on toes.
I reach the pit.

Bluebells. From a
precipice, I bend down
to hear the divine music.

A dumper picks up
the foreign traveler, hot
iron. I become a refugee.

Talking of non-violence,
you become violent
against the poppies.

The drugged apostate
wants to live in
lesser space than a mouse.

Rainbow becomes
dark. Colors singe the eyes
ignite the psyche.

Satish Verma

In Night Terrors

In war of words
you were your own―
image in sea of blood lunacy.

About the diplomacy
dawn brings the―
stings of wasps. The spirit
rattles the peace of mausoleum.

This is the curse
of unknown gods. A black
throat kills you by sweet lyrics.

Barehanded you
catch the lightning, and
the moonstorm sinks the boat.

I do not listen,
I do not read. Perceive
you in my silken thoughts.

The colors are fading.
Shrine lives by its unsung music.

Satish Verma

14 January, 2018

In Bazaar

Where do I place you
declassified?
O my boundless thirst―
you have made me cry again.

The haters
were many. Like myriad
thorns in flesh. Cannot stop the blood.
You smile.

In your beak. Carrying the
death― fire bird. Where you are going?
Past lake, past hills. The hunchback
stoops further, to get the award.

Who was the enemy of
body art? Birthmarks were becoming
nude. You want to exhibit
all the wounds of earth.

O god, your hairs are growing.

Satish Verma