Unmaking Love

Let it be. Your face
hidden between the
words.

Somebody starts
commiting suicide like
moth to the flame.

It was dark
when you become nothing―
in acoustic range.

I will not
interpret the butterfly's
meaningless dance.

Who believes in
one's own death,
to be born again like a
third person.

Satish Verma

Wisdom Fails

You are made to
love, deadly and chaste
without meeting earlier
in hive.

The bees refuse
to give honey.

The chemistry between
sun and marigold fails.
The violence sucks
the green.

On the pretext
of failure, depression
concludes the universal
truth.

The problem was
what kind of death you want.

Satish Verma

Vultures Sitting Silently

Selling the stardust
to become rich,
for harmony.

You will bring
the other world. A lazy
eye laughs. The poor
love weeps.

I have settled
down to accept the barbs
of philanthropy.

This undefined
pain hones the words
to fight the killed panther.

Drink from my
eyes. There was snow
fall on lips.

Satish Verma

Back And Forth

Someday I will
ask questions standing
in the deep forest.

Where the swarm
of words would go if―
the pen was broken and
you were hiding behind
the marigolds?

At last I was
looking for you with
minute details.

The silken touch of
your hand still burns
on my face.

Days don't change.
The pink symmetry was
a mirage.

Satish Verma

With Soft Feeling

I was my own
slave to walk on rose
petals to feel
the kingdom.

Dishonesty was
at large. I will not shun the
truths of bitter lips.

No mineralization was
there in pure eyes.
You could sail on the frozen lake.

What a thousand
words won't do. I did it with
skin and bones.

A flower vase. Flawless.
You want to write
the name of unknown.

Satish Verma

Stopped Thinking

I let you go
to meet the panther
in his den.

Gender invisible.
Still two souls were bound
to jump together
on the burning pyre.

A love unique.
Cavernous. Neither you come
out, nor I come in.
Life seeks the answer.

The hyacinth opens
the spike to reach your
sensitive lips. Who had
ignited the water?

Talking with dead,
gives some relief. The buzzing
in ears stops and you
listen a bird's song.

Satish Verma

Unwritten Grief

Standing in dark storm,
not to turn back.

An imperial oath
breaks, I don't want to
take any foreward for
my departure.

Small feet in
tattered shoes will not
leave any footmarks, and
climb the sharp edge.

Any friend becomes
A bleeding wound. It was
better to seek an asylum
in smile of black moon..

The knitting must
start. There was a pause
in pain of giving away
my muse.

Satish Verma