PARENTHESES

It was not easy,
to rewrite a dream poem
when you are bound and hurt.

*

A twiner
looms out, at my window.
Like a face, peeps in.

*

Do not want to tell,
about my sorrow,
before the dried up river.

Satish Verma

Renouncing

Move the steps,
to accept the dark.
Moon has abdicated the throne.

I am still trying to become.
Not becoming something.
A lot has remained―

unsaid in my small poems.
I am still trying, still trying
to decipher the life, to decipher.

The roots will know my pain.
My pain, why did I remained
mute amidst the clamouring words?

Tell me, why should it happen?
Why should? That someone jumps
in the boiling cauldron to find the truth.

Satish Verma

STILL ALIVE

It was difficult to revisit,
the birth therapy.

Arms had no emotions,
the violence will not go.

Let us take a back road for
the sake of anatomy.

And find out a man and the woman
to bend the gender.

The rock salt and the bruises
will melt, if you were warm blooded.

Satish Verma

A WHIRLWIND ROMANCE

I have accepted myself, now.

In incompleteness,
and all flaws.

The bunker was intent,
on self-destruction. Why
did you want to
stop that?

The prodigy will not
walk with me, I know.
Yet my shadow falls in love.

A tear-washed poem
was a good beginning.

Satish Verma

NOT A FATE

Stalking a poem
the art─
becomes a script.

*

At night it comes
to sleep in my bed.
A new verse.

*

I will reach you
in my ode,
one day.

Satish Verma

Sans Passions

After reaching, near─
the crumbling wall, you
enter the moment, for
want of an apology.

The surge walks with
the moon for a─
beheading. I was unaware
of the kindness.

The fierce revenge of the
night. Somewhere there was
an aberration. Two stark naked
kin went down fighting for a fish.

It was homage to the
pain after summary execution.
There was no resistance left
after the merciful end.

Satish Verma

Impersonation

You should have asked me.
Why was it not important─
to take a life, for saving
one other life?

I say, what did you give
me after the coronation?
Some sinuous questions?
Or splayed my heart open?

The crowd was always absurd.
You were latched onto the─
bronzed face of a naïve hero,
who wants the ants to drag an elephant.

The bone ossification proves
that you were still a juvenile.
St. Anthony's Fire? You want to
embrace the death now?

Satish Verma