One Silver Bowl
Will you save me
when I take the call of the lake?
The swishing depth was inviting me
for a plunge in the purple pool.
How deep was the pain of a mountain?
The domain was again ailing
with subtle rumors of
a massive landslide.
An escaped love of a thorn
was splittimg open the embrace
of me and my mask. Totally denuded,
a face was dusting off all the self-made
marks of inflictions.
Will you walk with me now
up to the stormy night, where I have
a house of candles keeping a vigil
for a coffin of unflowered seeds?
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Fruits Fall Like Dreams
We were absent from ourselves,
the stillness roared
like a mad sea.
Keeping a night vigil didn’t help,
we felt protected in blazing sun,
quality of answers were deteriorating,
the truth existed,
beyond our beliefs.
In non-aligned manners
we disengaged from pain.
It had become a habit,
to walk in swamps
instead of asphalt road,
which was leading to peace.
We watched the rise,
and fall of attitudes together.
Language failed to find an asylum.
Ataxia of windows,
cannot barricade the light,
the fruits fall like dreams,
on hard ground, to crack open,
and disperse the seeds.
When you start the
voyage to distant realities,
your days are over.
poem by Satish Verma
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Secret Wake
savage
running under the moon
selling the night
sanitizing
the hands
after the killing
truth
withdrawl
vaginae still inviolate
seeds wiped off
from the face of earth
ethnic cleaning
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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For Anything
A fake sanity with its wisdom
enlarges the space between the coarse
land of craft and sea of emotions
for stress to walk with soul
in sleep.
A dope for the last hurt in hurricane
at burning lake where I was collecting
the black seeds from the fallen tree
of love near the deck of house we built
on waves.
Do not corrupt the innocence of sky
enveloping the rage of sun. The call was
imminent from the dead leaves of autumn.
One day the anginous waste will become
seed vessels.
poem by Satish Verma
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Helmeted Version
Will the shouts work
on blood seeds in climate of conflicts?
Winter was shrinking.
Give me a hand.
I am going to invite clouds softly.
Let the drumming start.
War has broken out
on many fronts
for a god, for the grains
and for the golden gates.
Where shall we plant
the sacred tulsi?
You need a holy soil for that.
The transliteration of a famished lake
throws a foul smell.
Will you be able to walk
on the ice again?
Outside the climate of change?
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Aparthied
Offspring were preoccupied in their spiral career,
you feel sorry. You don’t get the sleep,
core-feelings flee from
the windows of an ailing house.
A cloud softens again in the eyes.
Wronged truth has created
an aparthied in ranks of candles.
Inner pain gropes towards
the spot between eyes.
You survive by the
whispers of absolute bliss.
Looking becomes a sequential text.
The self divides the darkness into hot flames.
Outpouring the anguish, the frailities.
At dawn the blackness
of dripping night fades.
The earth wins the moral nothingness,
beyond the regrets of inspired sermons.
The psyche is rooted
deep in the mud, topless
dust spreading the
message of preferred truce.
poem by Satish Verma
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A Soul Dies
Sky overcast, moon was sad.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
Who killed the bird in morning rain?
Ashes were sent to the lake.
A hidden slaughterman did not die.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
The good old name now spells the doom.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
I will call you in pitch-dark night.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
Ascending gods have ruined my life.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
A child was stolen from a mother’s bed.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
poem by Satish Verma
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Until Pain
Like a snowfox
it stampedes.
A mass panic of legs
after the flame festival.
Language moves like a landslide,
without vocabulary.
A love sperm will not go
into the test tube.
Baby was waiting, looking for
mother. The wetland was boiling.
The pain was worthy of the lamb
sacrificed.
Like a lantern, herpes zoster, burns.
The ganglia in memory of sick embrace.
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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After The Storm
Unfettered for a little while, I was
catching the sleep visitor. It hurts
when the dream ends and a poem starts.
An eucalyptus, drinking lots of water, throwing the aroma
incensing the air, I pick up the fallen seeds of light
in winter solstice, befriending the home traumas.
Fireflies leave the scorched marks of daydreaming.
I talk to moon for sometime and leave my address
with him. Tomorrow he will come to inherit the
pain. I wanted a sunless garden to commit
the sin of forgetting you. The night will find
me undying till eternity.
In my words I carry the charred remains
of time which smells the hunger of tomorrow.
Satish Verma
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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Mud On My Hands
Green eyes in the crevices of rocks
will not let the fossil weep
for innocent sun.
A mayfly floats like
a dry leaf on water, in the circuit
of sharks.
I offer not my robotic arm, insulting
the jaws in the crumpled solitude
of night. I will walk
with new moon to understand
the wetting of a bleeder,
heart and soul.
The umbilical pain again catches. I cry
in my own silence. This was not the
end I wished. Hearing aid
to feel the sting of a scream,
which rises from the depth of a blue
lake wounded by pride.
poem by Satish Verma
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A Cracked Visit
The other sex was stapled,
I started unfolding the secret:
what was static and who was silent.
I searched, therefore I was lost
before the end of journey.
The stench of grafting was taking over.
The incendiary recce was carried out
to shut out the voice of the street
in the melting snow.
Lake will find the woods for disquieting
sleep of muse under the blue-lipped moon,
and I will face my night.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Chronicity
I was keeping a vigil in holy town
on a water cut. Lucy, Lucy did you have
a dirty mind?
This luciferina, will not tell the truth.
Venus and Venus flytrap had a
parallel birth.
And I was facing the dismembered tragedy
of freedom, unblooded in alien land
of unthinkable prayers.
Where the country will carry my pilgrimage
of fears and apprehensions? I thought,
and therefore I disappeared.
In convoy of great ideas, the escort was
a beautiful god, who went to sleep
when assault came.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Hiding
After plundering the moon,
the skins
have dug their heels in candles –
for a night vigil.
Why you want to know the hidden meaning
Of a benign meaningless.
The beginning and end
were most visible tragedies
of an endless affair with invisible enemy.
Unsaying was very sincere
to truth if words were not mutilated.
Pure murder of an illusion in whispering sands.
poem by Satish Verma
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A Replica
You go down in the dry pool
foraging for the political errors,
irisprints, a certain desire of revolt,
any skeleton to identify the victim.
An awful claim, the accuser was becoming accused.
For namesake somebody was dying
unceremoniously for holding tuberculosis.
Dots did not help. Washed and dried curses
went into the background. There was a cease-fire
for sometime but the guns will start blazing
any day on fake pretexts.
The ending of pain or pain of ending begins.
The past was chasing, future uncertain, present
is ugly. Peahen likes the tail not the crown.
Peacock is on tree and on fire. Deflection
of sun marks the beginning of eclipse.
A word falls from a crossword puzzle, makes
a history. Death was in crucible, dualism
will survive. The long beard of a terrorist
becomes brown with age. The train is screeching
to halt. There was a landslide.
poem by Satish Verma
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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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Cannot Open The Loop
When I am completely denuded
Of my tremors,
I come at peace with my skin.
Burnt by raw blaze of reality
The brilliant confusion of today.
Promising night
selects the partners of grief.
Vacantly I fix my eyes on stars.
The words will never convey the silence
the mystery of eternal search
amongst the ruins of dreams.
Tongue falters on recitation of factuality
Over coming the rage.
Fatal dichotomy of life and death
starts sleepwalking.
Gulf widens the shores
seeking in metaphysical depth.
Speech does not bring solace
mathematics cannot open the loop.
poem by Satish Verma
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Flickering
A chalky midnight
I wait for the sound of
flapping winds.
A celestial embrace
with your duality.
Are you wearing my shoes?
The blood wears a coat
of dreadlocks. I
want to return to my soul.
Will not touch you
but always think about
the dialect of contours.
A death wish of a mountain
flower was to shed the seeds
in the lap of a dandelion.
poem by Satish Verma
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The Twilight
You start abbreviating the pretention,
caring for the end of a perennial revenge –
of slain truth, finding depth in arguments
which will spawn more violence.
Come my friend, come. Sit with me.
Let us search together the solitary
death in living past. Ultimate space was
a great deception of the eternal silence.
Clayey mood again depicts the pain
between your moons. I go for a play in dust
of time. The beats of heart will not wear
a sword now.
One hope finds a moon-belt on the hills
where the shadows walk with stars.
I will wait for the sun to rise.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Circling
A bucketful of moon
falls on my door
with the smell of a salted night
on frozen shoulders of a punctured landscape.
I start expanding
unseeing a sentimental lake.
Life was asking a very high price
for the purple bruises.
Why do you land on the sea of names?
Only one face sinks in the spill
of words. Would you put the green
rain in my glass of absinthe?
poem by Satish Verma
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