Grains Of Wood

Read me a poem.
The lightening has touched again─
my raw nerves.

*

I say, don’t
climb the terrace. Bougaivillea
has made it a home.

*

I have come,
a longway to meet my lover,
the solitary moon.

Satish Verma

WAITING TO BLINK

Eating circles in the sky
I ask you to step outside
the space. It was time!

I will alter the succession
of flesh to spirit.
Sky was overcast, when
mercury was falling.

The thread breaks. Your
theory falls without wings.
Chandeliers chase the─
shadows on the walls.

You start collecting the
tomorrow and the morrows.
There were no more yester-
days. Ashes will stay in urns.

The grass remains wet with dew!

Satish Verma

Colloquy

Will you wait for me
till the moon parts the clouds
and the lake looks serene?

A reticent encounter;
I want to speak through-
silence. A shadow play will do.

Mystic nights weave-
a conspiracy. The insects
hover like words.

A lamp? No I will
burn my bridges to illuminate
the river.

Between the math-
and a story lies
the bloody corpse.

Satish Verma

ALONG THE DOTS

What would you seek
from the collection-
of lyrics?
It is getting dark.

Dismantling the notes,
I heard, when tears
were sitting dead in-
the crying eyes.

Life reeks with the violence,
from inside. You wanted
one more religion to
atone for the stink.

But the signs will not
convey. I become the war,
the missile to destroy
my own kingdom.

Satish Verma

ONE COLD MORNING

After a─
good shower, moon was
braiding the clouds.

*

Dawn, December.
Recently washed trees getting ready
to drink the sun.

*

The dew drips.
I collect the elixir
to die again.

Satish Verma

Boudaries

By genetic accident─
I fall in your way.
A city sleeps between the arms.

Will you give me
a nickel of memory?
I have lost my home.

What do I do
with the moon? The night
has called for the sun.

Making a nest for
the sparrows. Want to
hear the domestic voices.

Here, the dreams
go. I am selling the
family silver.

Satish Verma

The Closed Window

When─
you were taking lovers,
a tunnel collapsed.


*

The vision
rolls back. The moon
releases the dark secrets.

*

A collaborator
gives in. The street spreads
the names.

Satish Verma