SNEAKING DESIRES

The pursuit of a rainbow
in the tiger sanctuary.
Mathematics fails.

*

Sundew
invites you to taste the flesh.
You fall like a guilt.

*

The pink moon
melts down in your dream. You
will not touch the flame.

Satish Verma

WINTER SCRIPT

The lust overtakes
the content.
Winter solstice gives the answer.

*

The winter moon.
How much a bunker will
provide you the shelter?


*

A countryside.
The huddled mushrooms
protecting their kids.

Satish Verma

SNARING

While delaying gratification,
you stripped-down
to bones.

It was winter solstice,
when day and night confronted
each other─

in negativity. Tracking
the frozen footprints, my absence
was generic.

I dread the barrenness─
of looks, the unwritten wounds
seeking the healer.

The avalanche falling
rapidly on the streets, with placards
demanding the gallows─

for the tainted. The
victim lies still. Ashes fly
back at the purebreds.


Satish Verma

AFTER THE ASSAULT

The hurt of a game.
Myth has played with the─
life of a song bird.

A dream becomes opaque.
You cannot find any─
image of blood.

A window shuts─
the moon. The rainbow will
grope for a sky.

And I must find
some excuse to live. The nascent
hope outleaps the black─

rain falling on eyes. Panic
grips poppies. They throw up the
color, the fresh dawn.

Satish Verma

MAN AND THE BEAST

After knowing so much
of unknown,
you were afraid, but I
lunge for the relic.

How far you will sink
in the depth of cries?
The moon will not─
offer her lips.

Light will not give you
the vision. A sin unrolls.
The city burns in its─
own garbage.

As soon as the water
dries, eyes will blink─
to nail down the constellation
in fog. The tongues retreat.

Satish Verma

A Crouching Stance

It was an outrage.
The weaver on the
loom was brutalized.

A design was raped.
The color screams,
I want to live.

Septicaemia spreads.
Time to be ashamed,
when your gut was removed.

The salt hurts on
the bitten lips. A
genome falters.

Let me try to define─
who we are; and
where we are going.

Satish Verma

Interactive

Unknowing the known
was politics
of unsold thoughts.

*

This was─
cyberstalking. I do not want
to talk.

*

The game
has backfired. It has
become a land mine.

Satish Verma