A Family Dust
A thirsty town fails, harvesting the moon,
and turns into a vast lake of tears.
They were fighting for their right to remain
poor and hungry. It was a fractured
amnesia in the pit of flesh.
Was it a pink rose? No one had planted
a kiss on the lips of a thorn. An unbuttoned
triangle snaps the cold and opens the thighs
of a tulip valley. Drop by dropp honeydew
dances into a hairy lap.
The shooting stars go into trance, multiply
the intimate minutes and indulge in
sprouting the horns. The longest night feels
betrayed and beseeches foremothers to
conceive again.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Unending
In downy pink I watch you go
my sun,
at night you will pluck moon flowers.
In half-moon eclipse
the morning glory will wake me up
in dew, alighting whole night
on the rose branch. I still smell
your lips. The head aches in
singing dark.
Welcome again, my ghosts of new year.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Death Of A Shadow
This life has snubbed the bloom
like a thick brown sac
thrown on the sod.
An octogenarian tries to slice
the hope indulgingly
to achieve immortality!
Was it a virile snarl?
A rose bud wrenched open
in a fatherless home.
Psychopathic?
We are spinning round the bell.
It may not tell the god.
A moon finds a rival
in the lake.
Night opens like a black tulip.
poem by Satish Verma
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Half By Half
Half the night for you
half the night for me
in between,
when we are going to light our lamps?
A clock is ticking away
time elopes with stars.
When the gametes meet
a spark will chuckle in dark.
Tonight I am going to open my wrists
throwing the lines in water.
Take care of the lineage
flesh eaters are moving.
A pink rose looks at me
like moon in a honeycomb.
It was bittersweet, hurting, kissing
the thorn in my thumb.
poem by Satish Verma
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Blue Mountains
The lesson
of sudden fall
and forgotten kiss.
Everytime I was afraid of me
unforgiving the gorge
of blue mountains.
When I usher you in sun
you flare up in color violet-green
I stay in ebony's arms -
with eye spaces
and everything turns water,
water of a lake.
I will not remember the shooting
stars when you are beside me.
Drifting curves had left behind
the seeds, planted under the moon.
Now they are exploding
one by one in the conch.
•
Tending to my pain
when you were unborn
O my poem
how you lay on me
asking for the whole truth
which would undo the helix
in eye long vision.
If the loneliness smiles
I will call you.
I will call you.
poem by Satish Verma
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Zero Hour
It was night’s fury
whipping up hysteria
on specks of flames, dancing in pain.
On a heap of ashes
and bones where a child of death
will be born.
Before fading,
moon will kiss the golden thighs
of sun and think aloud
dying shirtless in intimate
ambit of sky.
poem by Satish Verma
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Ecstasy
A pink rose was set to strip
letting the leaves fall.
The roots were jealous of a thorn
for stealing the blood from heart.
It was the last page of a book,
no more commas, no full stop.
The dead tongue now seeks syntax
of the lips that smell like enemies.
Two hard little breasts start a dance
like geraniums on bush.
Between the shadows of thighs
slept the pride.
poem by Satish Verma
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Oblivion
A cutaneous drip.
The young moon drinks the dew
unbuttoning a rose.
A fierce wind rubs
against the golden triangle
to invite a violet sting.
Eyes armed with green thumbs
go for a swim in rage.
The lake unloosens a blood moon.
No inscense will rise
from the tomb of a lover,
unless he dies with a style.
Crossing the gray lines,
I will not take your lips;
paralyzing the silver tongs.
poem by Satish Verma
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Styes
It was a searing moment in grueling
heat of your flesh, the racist attack had come
to surface, the blue eyes,
edible gold, in nights
the pink veil of the moon,
I will cut my wrist to pour out the pure vermillion;
a huge umbrella of hot kisses
dissolving the contaminated beads
of musk, like fever;
the smoke rolls down the hills
of collective guilt,
an anonymous warning;
the frozen voice opens
like a black tulip on baby ice,
down under goes the sun.
poem by Satish Verma
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Molten Grief
Give me back,
me back, my affections.
I had planted the kisses on
melting lamps.
The dark tunnel goes
to a lake for a rendezvous
with pink death on white lips
of cinders.
Such agony of wintering tree.
Not a single bird
on the branches to pump the green
blood for the wheels of time.
The speeding moon was in hurry,
to question the oppressed night.
Why the days were becoming
shorter and shorter?
poem by Satish Verma
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Anarchy
Wind prowled.
You had a hornet’s sting
buried half in your hand.
Anaphylactic shock.
Translates into night of terror.
You hesitate to smile.
Midnight blues.
You cannot count the stars.
Pesky. Stories spread about moon’s pink thighs.
An ode to the death’s kiss.
You were sleeping in the
sole embrace of pain.
The denizen breaks the rule.
Moves into the sea
for courtship with depth.
poem by Satish Verma
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Serene Revenge
Unmoored in twilight, my most visible
hands were ready to slam on the moon
of stains to bring out the water of life.
A secondhand night was waiting for
an explosion,
which never came. How long will we go
to find the peace in surrogate truths
surrounded by thorns on lips? I was hanging
a painting of a fall in happy valley of
gender artists,
which I never appreciated. The high heeled
power of legs was no match to beautiful nails.
The walk on the ramp betrayed the ancient
footfalls reaching nowhere to nothingness on
revolving planet.
The masqueraders are still roaming free on
parole to snatch a prize for extraordinary
darkness generated by stars on the faces
of orphans tattooed by the whips of silence,
after all they were flung flowers.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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War And Feathers
Between eyes and tears
you swim back to me on flames.
The little candles are going to take revenge.
Do not mean any insult to moon.
My stars were trembling
to reach the vanishing whole.
The cabbage blooms with
violets. Do you mind if I pick
up the pomegranates?
There was a curse against
the temple. The god was thrown
in the lake when tornado came.
Take out the thorn from
your foot. You have reached
the graveyard of unknowns.
poem by Satish Verma
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Path Of Destiny
The questions haunt
the genes who could’t stay
in flesh and a womb.
A winter moon picks up
the forgotten trail.
Night slaps a white cloud on my eyes.
A face swims on a lake.
A splash of color.
A yellow leaf falls
on the path of destiny
the moon enters a tree.
Burden of arithmetic shifts.
I take a break from my pain.
A star twinkles hesitantly
outlines a shadow.
I watch a violet flame.
The fear sprints.
I run towards a non-truth
Revenge of love overwhelms,
journies to zero pain.
Inward window opens to more queries.
Life revisits, ignites the dark spaces.
Intimate trust melts like lava.
poem by Satish Verma
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On The Edge
I recognized the vitriol.
There was blood on your hands.
The invisible was burning in dark.
This was the black moon
and this was the alienation.
An animal climbs on your shoulders.
It goes on and on.
Was it the night to undress
and show your wounds to dreams?
The lake has left the shores -
and flesh eats grass
in absence of cold truth.
I meet the moans of quaking
stars.petals know the music
of death in fragrance.
poem by Satish Verma
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Hostage
Cohabiting:
my poems make me sad.
You reflect the times
my body leaves the wound marks on sand.
Again I had gone to my tattered home
to sleep under the moon.
There was only a small window.
I would look at the stars whole night –
to conceive and jump into a lake
of synthetic fathers and hired wombs.
The grieving faith now holds you responsible.
O god, in reverse order, become a man.
poem by Satish Verma
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Question, Answer
You have nibbled and eaten raw
scratching by nails
talking of a pink rose syndrome
under the corona of soft spikes.
Someone talks to you in your brain
guiding you to guillitone.
Life was not worth any meaning,
when questions were none.
No one to resume, isolate green
from the grains of empty desires.
Your hand travels from thorn to thorn
to reach the unrelenting fires.
Made of eccentric obsessions
your house is far away. I smell
the yellow leaves falling, one by one.
It is still dark, with no moon.
Question will become one day, the answer.
The answer will never be the answer
We will remain confused, unclear
about the question and the answer.
poem by Satish Verma
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Bouquet
Come in the evening,
on the lake.
Together we will watch
the sunset.
Some unsung lines have been left
on our lips.
Some fractured smiles,
and some unwashed tears,
on the misty cheeks.
Sadness was stuck
in our reddened eyes.
Layer by layer
I want to wipe it.
A song, a reed, I will arrange
in a bouquet
in the name of redundant past
holding the unblemished time.
Come, when it is dark
in the night.
Together we will watch
the moonrise.
poem by Satish Verma
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Nailed
eyes will chew the words
i will not see all day along, do you hear
my thoughts in the icicles of flames, my bones
jutting out of knuckles,
i will go to memory lane once again:
where the stale smell of yellow pages
throws up invisible thighs groping for support
climbing in vain,
half moon floating on lake of tears
in fire of dark night –
drenched, he was escaping without legs
in white darkness of unaddressed pain,
sorrow of locked shame …..
victim of blisters on blasting flesh,
knees give way,
what was the date of surrender,
i was meditating on the ashes of serpents
beneath the ocean of protests in voyage
of solitude, as your lips quiver
in resilience of benign submission
poem by Satish Verma
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Reminiscences
The sludge overtakes the sane
euphoria.A barefoot caravan
of cloud becomes edgy.
The hills have gone green.
The cascading falls
tend to mount on the scattered stones.
Suddenly I go berserk and start
hitting the stars moon by moon,
when night had betrayed the lover.
The collected grief of the lyrics
will answer for the blood
which hunger spread on the lips.
poem by Satish Verma
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Leapfrog
A frog leaps between your eyes.
The fear was intense-
and pain was possessive.
In besieged apples, there
was no forensic probe. Carnality
takes the back seat.
One dropp of honeydew destroys
the contours of hills. Moon
will wear the unseen costume.
The purple sand now sends
the topless marines to fight
with tender stings.
I am here, with an azure sky
to unfold the secret of dark flames.
O rose, send the bouquet.
poem by Satish Verma
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