Scarf On Head
Tangled clues
with sensuous sparring;
the incense was rising from the blue moon.
It was body’s integrity,
a lender was demanding
when lust had become prodigal.
Behind the thin veil, red eyes
stared unblinkingly
at the portrait of a nude zero.
When the light was nodding from a crown
the darkness spat on the feet
which walked on the roses.
A single thorn will not be envious
of the licking fingers.
A dropp of blood will tell the truth.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Related quotes
Descending
i make ready myself for an insult
and chest pain, keeping unshorn hair like nettles
on contours, to take unknown turns for restoring
the clouds on moon-blue hills, spreading the water colors
on trees; someone inside the shrine was making
turbulence: yellow room has the footprints of
a naked fakir, after the apocalypse, who walked eyes closed
on the burning ghats, his rags are now worshipped,
the later years found the darkness
glowing in the furnace of propped up body
by roses, roses all the way, he tells the
hanging man, how tall were the poles, with song
poem by Satish Verma
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Nature Speaks
Full of venom the -
sting will break on my breast.
O, a watermark?
The paper was thin.
Could read your words
across the face.
The body quivers
under veil, for a kiss
of yellow moon.
poem by Satish Verma
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Blue Sky
The stem cells coaxed to become
a kidney or a trachea failed to
ask the Himalayas, why were not,
they gathering the ice for glaciers!
Some sexual jealousy?
The naked darkness will nurse
the roses to rest on the barrel
of a gun. Civil war will start any day.
Colored man, the tattoos will not
tell the truth of the body. Blood
was always crying to give up
the fight. Why half-brothers were
destroying each other?
No squirrel will climb on the trees.
Nuts have gone. The winds have dispersed
sine die. A prayer is rising from the lips of earth.
poem by Satish Verma
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In Aloneness
It was a thorn in flesh
before our fires met in midstream,
the waterplant had become untouchable.
I saw you lying
behind a thin veil,
like a prophet, in timeless agony.
The moon had left a wreath
for a failed worrior,
who could not move into the tunnel.
Entering the childhood again
to reap the sorrow
of a dry fountain.
Ah, in the eternal withdrawl
I come face to face
with my dying earth.
poem by Satish Verma
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Steaming
Surrender your shadow
to light.
Come my trenched thoughts.
An upside down
episode speaks of a missed
path, and of a blue smoke.
Have you entered
the lake to search for a
sunset is rising moon?
The house-trap again
catches you in midstream.
No peace. Eyes refuse to shut.
Bind the stars with a moon.
Let the night be blue-black.
A goddess of arson was coming.
poem by Satish Verma
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Her Looks
Jinxed out
was the sex panel
on the honour’s integrity.
Deep water a fish
was found dead.
The destination
of your rival was
feminism. I was talking
of the moon
without gender.
Your fingers were probing
the dancing words,
in this strange event.
Darkness was falling
on my lips in morning.
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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Different Shades
Do you envision a creeping fear
climbing the minaret
to reach the moon?
A debate has started
between believers and non-believers.
Why not he who lives
in eternal emptiness climbs down
and settles the dispute of hymns
in the scortching heat of words.
I just want you to read
the script and don’t say, a sky
has wept
dropp by dropp on the nakedness
of human beings
who could not cover their shadows.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Of The Next Zen
When moon was found on water
sky came down with unclenched fist,
too proud to accept the defeat.
Footprints of a giant will not leave
the broken landscape, of the virgin garden
where roses died in a row in storm.
There were no absolutes in good and bad
I have started talking to trees to shed
their blooms, winter was coming in blue eyes.
My ship was able to dodge the icebergs
wringing the waves from your face;
lake heaved a sigh of relief in glided death.
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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Forgetting
What was about this face?
Between mirage and actuality?
A fireball was coming towards you.
You upturn the underside,
wanted to taste the blood
and get argasm.
The statues were posing nude.
Mothers were clad in leaves.
Fruits were the greed of man.
I refuse to lie in state. The
sand grains will find the innocence
of silver breasts when sky will
spat a murder. Were you ready
now to become corrupt?
At last the beginners are now
becoming the boots.
poem by Satish Verma
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Shifting Floors
A hand without fingers
draws a self-portrait.
Faceless, only eyes glaring
like bucketfull of burning coals.
Was it not enough to call ‘wolf’.
The pain scorches the compound
where the blood of innocent flowed
because somebody was burning woods.
The shifting continues in the ocean
of grief, but the kelp
remains there, connot be eased out.
Even the violence makes the water blue.
You were inhailing the white
gowned death everyday. A
moonlit landscape mourns
for the living on earth.
poem by Satish Verma
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Ironical
Sky drank the moon
when night was cool.
A lone tree on roadside
waits for the prowling wolf
to steal the electric skin
like the veins on the breast.
River was flowing
nudging, cleaving the rising frenzy.
Still the thirst does not sink
like the torpedoed sub.
A dropp contains million faces of a moon.
A moon does not have a drop.
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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Flying Beard
like ether, permeating all space
mesmerizing,
he walked away, head of his enemy
in his hand,
like a trophy?
frighteningly orangish
a decapitated body shudders.
The holy war
demands its price of a joke.
The face of red and blue.
A terrible reminder of a snaky past
that kills the puppets. The hands
dance in air.
The irrepairable, pink wounds
bleed, sweat smoke
of death?
SATISH VERMA
poem by Satish Verma
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A dead world
as thy light turned to darkness
As thy world to black from blue
As thy eyes turned from bright to dull
And thy lust for blood became strong
As thy hair turned blood red
As thy clothes turned to black
As thy hands, feet became clawed
And thy lust for blood became strong
As thy people died with red, black
As thy city, town destroyed
As thy hunt for her started
And thy lust for blood became strong
The world died, so did I...
poem by Sesamarna Syfyre
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Ash Poem
I could not take it, the fear.
Transient flesh
vibrant in a sunken ship.
On a coral island
deconstruction of a fallen window.
Jumping on million skins.
The level of violence was rising.
Rebuttal will not convey
the truth, the reality.
A thin line of lips
skates on the ice of power.
In a palm grove
I was held by music of death.
My arms unwrapped
around the portrait of life.
White swellings on the knuckles
betray the gliding priest,
who denies the god.
poem by Satish Verma
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Crib Of Sun
He faked a letter to god
and slept whole night.
(Fallen in a creek from a moving train.)
Indeed, he saddled himself with luxury
of oblivion.
The success around him was most obstinate.
Pretending to condone the arthritis
of social limbs, he walked straight
to become what he would be,
a fakir among riches without fanfare. The
absolute renunciation, slapping the door –
shut, for blackness.
It was visible, the nakedness of brazen lies
falling like cottonwool around him. He touched
coral eyes of truth and wept, never to speak
again. Cosmos would split
for his journey to home.
This was meant for you, he said to himself.
Your own choosing without any regrets.
His fingers traced the figure of a mother
of the thin moon, who was assaulting
the crib of sun.
poem by Satish Verma
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Tableau
Again I scare myself
of the very thing.
Moon was landing on lake
for inward probe.
One presaged silence,
speaks, of the veracity of lovers
to grass, where no dropp drives a sun,
the red bricks build a shade.
Ragweed in a daisy field:
Ambrosia, I will not taste you
till the rainbow sits
in the meadow.
Round eyes
keep the dawn hidden /
under the lashes, sleep my saint
for a while, door was waiting for a knock.
SATISH VERMA
poem by Satish Verma
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A Somber Night
A volcanic kiss
was becoming ungreen.
The shark was coming.
All night it was raining.
The sap was rising
and love-farm was deluged.
A blue moon
walks on the dry eyes.
Why the tears had gone to exile?
A mole was growing
on the face,
while a smile was sitting outside.
When I woke up
into her arms, the moon
was blith and round.
poem by Satish Verma
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