All I Remember
Your world collapses A name shies of comeback
breaks the water for bare bones unaligned you
hunker down for the happenings didnot fit
in the shoes of black magic it was a damned
reversal of the pygmies to become tall the old city
dies on the hill young steps start a never ending
descent of the wheels can you stop this vintage flow
in night king was sitting without a glass
rolling stones were laughing after the conversation
and the sons of soil smashed the barriers
after the illumination cacti become prominently displayed
in the jungle of weeds wearing nightgowns of thorns
two headed snakes lapping up the milk from the teats
of a moon the cow jumps on the hemlocks amidst
the cries of children of tomorrow
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Dark Language
Wanted to wear the grief uncrying,
sitting on the bank, counting the waves,
watching the swaying of earthen lamps.
There was a little water on the moon,
charged atoms settling in the lap of a sponge.
The water becomes the moon,
floating on goat’s milk.
My descent starts to find the truth.
Where the water has gone from the eyes?
The mirrors always tell the lie.
The headless body writhes in the dust,
words change the author of a murder.
A crowd finds a knife only.
Once again a century weeps!
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Words Of Never Being
In unaligned loneliness,
tonight, a liquefied moon
will fill up my glass, and my shadow
will sit beside me and we will drink the pain.
Lets’s settle in twilight of stars
and think not of violence of crawling
and inflicting damages to each other; I will never be
myself again during the random dark.
The end of punishment or punishment
of ending were drawing very near,
dotting the landscape. All the budhas
are assembling to wash our sins.
Give me some bones to fix the knees,
I have lost my golden throne in
the dazzle of wounds, the flames
are lifting the red sky.
poem by Satish Verma
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I too, have got shoes
Have you seen shoes on children here
No shoes for other children
No shoes for your children
My uncle said to my dad
I lost my shoes—small shoes
from then on
My feet crushed the thorns
from then on
The city was taken from me
But not me from the city
from then on
Many years later my shoe remover died
And I got back my shoes
Bigger shoes—for crushing thorns
from then on
I cat walked in them
And went to bed in them
from then on
I got the city back
Even when I stayed there
from then on
Believe me I too have got shoes
And I slip my feet in them
But not for sleep anymore
Yes I too have got shoes
Other children wear shoes
My children wear shoes
Wear shoes why not
Why not why not why not why not
Shoes in the cot
Shoes to school
Shoes to the market
Shoes to the office
Why not wear shoes
poem by Moses Kainwo
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Till This Day
Spare me a moment.
Can you anticipate the innocence
of tomorrow?
Someone wants to bare
her breast to protest
against the concept of black and white.
Tell me where the black ends
and white starts? The glass and
daffodils always go together.
The fake colors. I look at the
sky and start a monologue
with a yellow moon.
The smoke spoils the shore.
River engulfs the boat
and a definition drowns.
poem by Satish Verma
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Puzzles
hopscotch, retrieve a pebble
from the lake,
sitting under a tall tree
i will wait
for leaves to fall
on water;
i will see through my seeds
a relief of roses,
overnight
in the soccer field
tiny mushrooms
popped up, wearing white caps
to see the game –
turning the pages of a book
opens a museum,
i come on you
not accusative
SATISH VERMA
poem by Satish Verma
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Nakedness
Dying piece by piece in shock –
a life without a mutiny.
Walking amidst blue kraits
you never raised the stick.
Of extinct possibilities in the night
of unmanned crossing-
the blood streaked globe goes on
revolving round the blazing sun.
Short legged pygmies waving
to tall peaks of ice from the
burnt-out shelters, to learn
obedience again.
Crushed and upturned, we lost
each other in the jungle of
uncertainties. Peeled off skin
made us afraid of each other.
poem by Satish Verma
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On the Wheels We Go (song)
On the wheels we go
Screeching sounds on the bow
Woofers woofers on the move
With the hips ya shake
My love for the kiss
Vintage cover red in bloom
On the wheels we go
O Lala lala laala lalaa
From the city to the wild
Like boys on horses
Like your eyes wide
To the moon to the moon
On the wheels we go
My love is mine
Her lips so sweet
In the sultry afternoon
On the wheels we go
To the moon to the moon
From the stars we bring
Love sweet luck sweet
Honey come ride with me
On my vintage so smooth
On the wheels we go
To the moon to the moon
On the wheels we go
To the moon to the moon
27/5/2009
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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Returning
You come home, sitting on my shoulders.
I bid you farewell at door. Death tiptoes in dark
before looking at the bare hands. A new concept of
ending comes out from crozier. Uncoiling has stopped.
In loincloth a truth unravels the mystery of cells. A
warm transparency. You walk around objectively,
returning the gifts to birds, bees and aspens. It
was time not to put up excuses. The wings are tired
and wind was falling.
Let the dance of nothingness start!
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Celibate
Standing on a cliff
holding the hand of a tall tree
the wind said –
I am going to die in few minutes.
Moon was laughing.
In elements of air and fire
a deity was in burns.
Who had the déjà vu?
Sky was wearing white.
A divine mushroom was going to fail.
A purple wart is growing
along the innocent neck.
The colossal death of hungry strangers
is going to go in waste.
“Being” was truth, but conditioned to lies.
King was wearing an amethyst
watching a marathon.
A single sperm will win
to enter a paradise,
for the sake of a celibate.
poem by Satish Verma
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I Think
Eyes will not flirt again.
There were bleeding stones -
to speak of black magic.
We meet like strangers in tides
and part like sun and moon.
Do not go into the night.
It was scary to dare the barter
game of death. Gravel had no
complaints. The body was not found.
Nobody had killed the stars. Let
her go, I say, in the explosive light.
Do not go into the night.
I think I will move again in a
gift trap, accept the moon's treachery,
but I will not go into the night.
poem by Satish Verma
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Dragging
The Asperger syndrome: you will not speak,
you will not tell me about
fertilizer bomb. In a farmhouse blackwater
becomes a death chamber.
A toddler falls in a borewell,
you can still measure hypothermia,
the tilting of meteor saves the landfall,
stalking through the extended body.
What was the right thing in a chorus of protests
to underline the resilience of beaks and claws?
It bugs the space and diameters of arguments
about the sweep of corruption in integrities.
It is very difficult to stay being whole amidst
the broken shards of bones. The dreams were
set in stones and water was rising.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Claustrophobia
For a patch of happiness
you rushed into the arms
of clouds. Only to fall back with tears.
The glazing authority of moon
hangs on the poverty of spiked wisdom.
Betrayal is the norm of celestial thinking;
how can you accept a dropp of death?
What is your motive
in watching the pain?
A path, a tunnel,
a precipice. The collage of purity
has the innocence of sorrow.
And truth, sails like a phoenix.
There is complete silence.
The flameless fire collapses
lapping up the anger.
Pouring out all the heart beats,
emptying the mind
darkness lowers the wheels
between muscles and bones.
Your body is eaten half by dusty thoughts.
Claustrophobia chokes the little stanzas
you are afraid, some one cares for you.
poem by Satish Verma
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Irony Of Author
In the absence of a consenting moon half
my night was in disarray, the density of poems
was draining out the grape wine from the eyes.
This amphitheater of your life: where you
are spectator and you are a player, past
the tears and past the happiness.
Find out the lost baby, where we slept.
A crying bundle on the tracks of bones.
You cannot carry the outstretched alms, need to stop
the train of thoughts.
Green boys were hiding in their sleeves.
Did you perform your role well in speaking
your dialogue on the stage and give a loud
laughing call?
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Homecoming
The yellow beaked vultures were waiting.
A cloth bag contains the bleached
remains; his father.
Impeccable gift unmasked.
After the inferno, hydrants went dry. The guilt survives
the dispossession, pondering over the black dew
now covering the pink roses.
The illusion persists. Master is coming home.
jug was empty. A miracle will start
the kitchen. An infant cries in the backyard.
The windows were sleeping. Let the sun
stand outside. A yellow moon at night will
open the door.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Talking Spirit
Water has its own mind.
Becomes a rival
in the crack of a rock.
If the moon cries;
it becomes dew
on the slender grass.
The maiden love,
you will find it on
bed at night.
And when the priest
becomes featureless
it goes in the eyes of a god.
When death smiles,
it fills the glass
you drink it like elixir.
poem by Satish Verma
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I Am Burning My Bridges
To search you
I am burning my wheels.
Put your hands
on my shoulders
for opening the book.
To read the message
between the words.
When the time comes
I want you
to smear my ashes
on the stones of footpath.
I want them
to walk on me
and dissolve their steps.
Stop looking
at me.
To reach you
I am burning my bridges.
poem by Satish Verma
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Small Talk
Surge in hidden chastity
enters the torch but the enemy
was within.
Brown clouds over the black carbon,
glaciers were melting;
the assault rifle stands alone in snow.
This was not ignorance,
a purposeful denial of white truce
in the jungle of lizards.
I would go where nobody wants
to tread in night. The hanging years
of marriage gone wrong.
O my God, tiger at the door,
demanding a new babe every moon.
The flesh will extract its own blood.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Singing Dust
Bring out your integrity
genesis is imploding
in the murderous womb.
Multilinear mutinies have started
in red blooms
igniting the sky.
An old woman walks on the street
eating the shadows of sun.
The king will give her a gift of moon.
How the earth has been flattened
by the pawns of Resurrection?
Life has never been the same.
Purely undone for the death
milk of silence in dark.
The cow is sitting on the singing dust.
Fear was not me I was listening
the wheezing sound of changing winds.
The snakes are coming out of the trenches.
poem by Satish Verma
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From A Dot
One final leap
from high solitude
into city of dusk,
takes you to presence
of charred remains
of a fallen god.
A housewife moves in the kitchen
to prepare a farewell dinner
for the encounter of fatal descent.
A paranormal parting
to comeback to body of truth,
as you pick up your words.
Space odyssey in eyes,
palms folding,
to receive the punishment.
No complaints, no grieving
conclusion of foregone stopping.
A line will start from a dot.
poem by Satish Verma
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No Rescue
Civil war:
Again you are visiting
the childhood.A green pond.
Smoke filled eyes ask, what
was a home?
A black city of white hills.
You were climbing on dreams
to reach a baby moon.
And the night
was very long, like a bad name
you cannot spell.
The anthills, fireflies and
snakes. You are still lost
in cobwebbed age.
Pawned:
After books there were no other
tales.
poem by Satish Verma
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