Phenomenal Defeat

A wine taster was
ready to begin the birth
of night.

A wrinkle displays
the absurd mediocrity
of the charter.

I will not play
in the hands of unknowable
I have my own map.

I am shedding,
my skin, my color. Only
a truncated god will speak for me.

Satish Verma

Émigré

It was not mental,
when you said, ―
in solstice, the body
and the physics of ashes become
one, the duality is lost
and indentation removed.

This fall it was a freak
weather. The tangerines are
covered with accusing ice. The
insomnia has set in the trees.
No body was sleeping
in gray.

Do not forget the prayer.
Retroactivily you can be pardoned.

Satish Verma

An Acrimonious Dialogue

The ambrosial ending
of the day. I was not sure
of myself. How would the
thumb mould the pen
in internal search
of cavities?

You are not going to live
hundred years. Falling from
the terrace, with a thud,
lying in the pool of blood, till you
find the celibate truth?

Between the dust and dawn
lies the dark. The oesophageal
reflux makes a hole
in each eye. Can you
read in the thick fog
of absent faces?

Satish Verma

Winter Night

It was never meant,
to be the triumph
of the death

in the night of the snowfall.
The silent fall of flakes,
covering the stains,
would start a conversation
about the truth of life.

A journey to unknow the evil starts.

Satish Verma

Sparkling

Moon in dying
on the icy bridge

as I stand in fog to hear the music
of hung verdict you are

not playing the carnal game

a threadbare dawn
still waits
for the liquid sun,

the moosewood is going to start a striptease

Satish Verma

16th December 2013

Leaning against the shadow
of self, starting the
monologue. With the fall
I don't want to think of the other.

The beasts.
I give a call, to someone
over there,
who will listen.

A systematic peel, opens
the doorless cage and
sets free the malignancy―

to spread. Now multiple argan
failure, stares at you,
celebrating the anniversary
of the rape.

We are made up of
charcoal, writing on the walls
with dark fingers―
name of the victim.

Satish Verma

Feeding The Past

I take me,
in the whirlpool of bridges
for a nonprofit.

Gathering on rocks
begins. Moonlight reads
quickly, the faces.

I would not give you
my speech, my blindness.
Become mute like the call of
a mountain.

A broken cry will save
the poetry, the river,
the sea.

An old adage brings
the solace.
Somewhere a truth sings.

Satish Verma

Reminiscing

I catch the sadness
of gray woods. Stone by
stone, gathering the twilight
of fall.

Would you walk with me,
my fallen peaks,
to witness the cold and wet
dark?

A deep silence sings
in my inside. I scoop
out the golden hole of
pain.

The endless pathway,
where, you will find my
immortal verse kissing the
white snow.

Satish Verma

Naked As Ice

Howling wind!
Why were you gathering the―
dead leaves, sweeping
the desolate white road?

A bleak and dismal emptiness
in-between, the
no man's land.

Thousand eyes watch the tiny flurries.
The perfect peace,
descends.

From moon's navel,
falls the golden bloom.

Satish Verma

Skipping The Steps

A tree waits to hug me
after shedding the
leaves. The man

becomes a child, entwining
the snaking trunk
for a brush with infinity.

The supreme dedication
become humane, enough
to kill the non-man.

A lethal mix of
parodies brings a comic
relief to sparring partners.

After all you discover
the white fog, god-made
to unlisten the lyrics.


Satish Verma

White Lies

It was a glass house.
A burning boat capsizes
in milk body, creating
a schism.

Relentlessly, a classical theme
was furloughed. I
refuse to sell,
sell anything.

A deemed thought is
nurtured, hiring the
tall grasses, to hide
the kill. I am writing―

a poem of falling leaves
to eat the huge steps
of a giant, who started
the blood time.


Satish Verma

The Immaculate Descent

The God refuses to accept
the infant universe.
After the elusive cues, there were
antique radiations to prove
that there was a diplomatic suicide.

A bit of grass,
some moon, little water
of eyes, the eternal embrace and
life starts earnestly in the
qualms of terror.

Washed out on the shores, comes
the body of liberty. The blood caked
limbs will tell you the tale
of tribal instinct, of mankind to
destroy the self, the
vessel and the sea.

Satish Verma

Standing In Fog

A diminutive moon
will ask about the infinity
of blackness, when I
was waiting in November night
of a toothed fall
in a missing success.

Ahead of time, you
punch the wailing trunk
of the fallen tree. I had the taste
of honey, but who am I,
a giver of anonymity?

Withering in a fire house
without door. I have come back
to know my ancestory. This
was my home once, in the
ancient history of man. This
was the gift, this was the dawn.

Satish Verma

The Reverie

It was devastating.
Out of boredom, drops in
the moon, in the month October.
Hanging over a palm,
to shake hand with a
lone survivor,
a firefly.

A silvery silence
explodes in you face, before
you write a simple word
on the golden leaf.

And I must undo
the locks of complex, winged
life, which will not set―
me free from the funeral
pain. I am going to
meet myself, beyond you.


Satish Verma

Breaking Black And White

Bending the truth,
you return back to your home,
separated by a―
monologue of lie.

When do we become human,
collecting the firewood, to burn
the wax houses, lifting the sky
to fall from heights?

It was a rare glimpse―
of the running limbs,
in unison, when the rains arrived
in the long-armed dahlias.

This is cryptic nonsense when
you start seeing the flesh,
in grass, where moon has come down
to water the Lucifer.

Satish Verma

A Death's Kiss

Sometimes I do not
want to be talked about.
Like the setting sun.

The earthworm was busy
in turning the soil,
printing the seed's path.

I had removed, from
the house, all the clocks.
I wanted the time, to stand still.

My moment has not come.
In aloneness I will
find you in my shut eyes.

The dark night swims
once again, on the sea
to reach the boat.

You lay down your head on
the oars and go to long sleep.

Satish Verma

Bitter Sweet

Autumn was round
the corner. I was preparing
for the fall.

The great wall
is crumbling. Will you
come for reunion?

Thea leaves,
I am ripening for you in sun.
Come like the moon's milk.

Satish Verma

Without Destination

You come to me like
a fall.
All the colors have arrived.

The being, an entity―
multiplies. For now,
in past, in future.

A will not move away very far
from the dots.
A tangent will lead you to me.

Satish Verma

Fractured

Blunt and bold were
the wet spots.
You bleed like me.

The seizure takes hold
of millions thoughts.
My sins are walking with me.

No annihilation of
the flesh. I was meeting
the spirits.

The face becomes pure
gold, when you
start burning the issues.

The years had survived
in slumber.
Death will not come to the hanged man.

Satish Verma

Night Spots

Tonight the moon will sit
on the gazobe,
to have a look at the sea, rising.

*

On the night's shade
dewdrops will wait, till
morning glory blooms.

*

It was a long night.
My lamp starts to flicker.
I hurry up to finish my poem.

Satish Verma

Unthreading

It was a damp kiss
of an image.
Dispassionately you drop
an old coin into my hands.

Faithless in your poem.
I adored the Venus in twilight.
Carnation. A rose pink color,
appears in your eyes.

Rising from the marshy
slush, greater flamingos
keep watch underneath, at the
army of urns.

The sameness now dithers.
You want to weave the moon
in your breast, unpreparing
to open the heart.



Satish Verma

Many Shades

The brown rice were
not yet ready.
An old man turns in grave.

*

The thingness
was shapeless in dark
Like a sleeping Buddha.

*

Once I told a lie.
The snow started melting
releasing methane.


Satish Verma

Crumbling Down

Can you understand
the agony of a titan, which
cannot afford to show its fall?

Missing the defeat―
no one was victorious.
Battle cry was a phantom.

The questions, that were
fluttering in a storm―
had become the sufi fakirs.

It was a dirty stricture.
The colors had stopped flowing.
Even the death has lost its terror.

Satish Verma

Uninviting Destiny

I would not understand
your fabric, when you come
wearing only smile.

The politics of life was beyond
my poetry. I only have the words
as my wealth. No other assets.

I wanted more space
between the black holes. My earth
needs a rebirth. I am very lonely.

Poison poems. You always
sparred with a family of weighting
heights, which could not touch the sky.

A series of serial killers,
were ready to begin the assault
on the tossing daffodils, deaf, dumb and blind.

Satish Verma

Too Crowded Was Arena

I felt you, through your
words. Tight and
crisp. But you remained untouchable.

For thousand of years
a lity of valley
cried, to get a dove's cooing voice.

The musk deer will not
leave its domain. Some
poems were hungery of its hideout.

An ordinary day of fall
starts the inferno. Syllable
by syllable in colors.

The dilemma of drinking
the hemlock at one go.
How would I describe the ascending paralysis?

Satish Verma

Wounded And Alive

In search of wholeness,
the words sit around me
cutting the edge of the corn ear.

A new shibboleth, will
announce the arrival of
a bloody tribe.

In this life cycle, I
will meet you, to kidnap
a Pir for remaining silent.

Who was on the road
to give a sane advice
to the waning roses?

It was not poemtime.
The kids were bleeding
from the barbs of unknown.

Satish Verma

Covered With Quills

This paper lantern in lake
was in love with you.
The water oscillating,
not the taper.

*

The panelled remains of―
walls still hold,
your signs. You would not
come back?

*

Apparitions gather―
to bid goodbye to the moon.
A flame of the forest
was due any moment.

Satish Verma

Turning To Dark

I believe in you, O tidal
mouth, where the salt
meets the stream.

I never had any God
to put the fish in desert to swim,
and someone can write a poem.

I am not different
beyond the unwritten
miracles. I cannot undo a cliché.

It is still my dharma ―
to listen to unheard cosmic
chants of blue birds.

And I reached the emptiness
of a vessel, which had
spilled over the milk of seeds.


Satish Verma

A Spirited Dust

Was it a calculated
risk, when it was poetry,

falling like rains
on the parched lips

of yellowing pages.
Like the stones of a

grey mountain,
singing a hymn to blasts,

pick pocketing the sun?
I start reading the anatomy

of violence, ever, never
easy to understand.

Lots of red blotches
were spread on the tiny figures.

Satish Verma

Each Day

The suffering
was suffering.
You pay for it.

There was no point
in returning, to fumble.

Sodium or Potassium
fluoride will make it lethal.

New crack's open the
mind, like a walnut.

God's creation―
lies in halves.

Take it, or reject it,
the maze of words―

describing the brutality
of life's half-truths.

Satish Verma

Beyond Words

Skinned alive, as
an aftermath of speaking
against the unhinged
blue gods.

Like cacti: growing
straight towards the sky
exploring the questions,
you open a can of paint.

The secret spills. In
happenings, you will find
some poems, written
for tribes of flowers.

The colors sings at the
feast of tearfalls.


Satish Verma

No Revenge

Penultimately,
I pick up my choice
of not accepting my defeat.

The grades were falling.
Yet my limbs move
on fine grains of salt.

I will write, blue names
with chalk
on the blackboard of―

a teacherless life.
The disasters had helped me
to redefine the attachments.

The jail-break was
imminent Moon was coming
out from the nemesias.

Satish Verma

The Deep Cut

Under your baton,
The targets are being
identified. Moon will
find out the hiding
of muse.

A purple rhythm
will not be stymied
in bud. Hold the
ground. Sun was setting
very soon.

I have not heard the
boots of departure
as yet. The music
will go on till the
last breath.

A very positive black.
With closed eyes, you
sit in meditation―
until the flames arrive.

Satish Verma

What Was Left

A veiled threat,
a muffled cry. It was not human.

No beast, no monster
yet unhuman.

The feel of wolf's
lair, was there in dark.
Anything would happen.

You wanted to become
a self-proclaimed divine Being.
Yet, you were not a god.

A black pit opens. Do not shout.
The clogged artery had bursted.

I give you back your city
you can scale the high wall
and jump into eternity.


Satish Verma

For Heaven's Sake

In shreds,
the day has passed.
At night, I will touch;
the unasked questions.

You were sending, the
soap bubbles, like
swans carrying the messages.

The weather changes. A
fantasy becomes real.
The moon has missed the night.

Like the Morse code, there was
a flurry of taps, the
blank paper flies for a rite.

It is dawn, breasted and melting.

Satish Verma

Tall Slogans

A futile attempt to go
for a collection spree.
You got only the numbers.

It had to happen. The drums were beating.

The minority suffers
in the hands of many gods.

Between the black
and white, will it be last battle?

Temples were asked to
give the details of divine―
winds and the red moons.

There was a spiritual conflict,
without giving any purpose.
You cannot dissect
my poems.

Satish Verma

The Ire

Encrypting the cause―
of death. Why do you
truss up the statement?

Tell me, whom you were
punishing, accepting
the legitimacy of lies?


Anything would happen
to the author,
who was writing a diary
on the fallen saint.

The palace fumes. There
was an extraordinary delay
in execution of
fire spoons.


Satish Verma

From The End

Hard and brittle,
the cost of sealing the lips
was increasing overnight.

Cleaving the thoughts―
you would not tell,
what do you believe.

I watch in horror. A
planned trajectory has
failed, shielding the tears.

A furore rises. Half―
humans were fighting
with stones.

It will talk, one day
the agony of deathmask,
you did not want to wear.

Satish Verma

Reclaiming The Legacy

A shut door
without a house
would not open, would not open.

An unsealed house
without a door
will not invite.

The irony of knocks overcomes the visitor.

And why would,
you walk in the
doorway without reaching
anywhere.

A divided world
moves towards a diminished―
family.

Satish Verma

Some Snippets

A sleepwalker gives up
a snake,
inside the sleeves.
The dog outruns
the moon.

*

You draw a blue line
around the summer night.
Flames.
I will drive out
the ghosts.

*

The acid attack
went for the thatch.
You will snorkel now,
under the reeds.

Satish Verma

Quick Snatches

Lesser evil of a god
will preside over
the verdict. There was
a sexual assault
in the temple.

*

If you have an eye, you
will you find a
naked king,
riding on a
golden horse.

*

Friends. It is time,
that will give
you a slip.
Beware of the
dark sentry.

Satish Verma