Uprising
Empty hands were trying to collate
the fallout after the trigger moment
invited the unwelcome guest
wearing explosive vest.
It gives a push to throw away the paper
and I walk up to the ink for a
new chapter. The squinting sun was
not able to break the stoic silence of adoration.
A pervasive ambition spreads out
on the breads of poor dreams.
Pay no attention, pay no respect to the falling
patriach. Daughters of broken stars were rising.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Something Human
beautiful girls
formless of criminal honesty
falling in love with endymion
a wave is furrowed on the forehead
of selene, envy or a genetic trigger
starts a nightmare
fading star heralds a
gray moon
leaves are falling
like my words
from your lips, are you beside
me in green silence
i was watching
the sun falling on the wings
of black birds
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sun’s Inheritance
This was a raw thing.
A paranoid template for AK-47 rifles. The
homemade bombs were planted on the roadside.
A very explosive blend of a fedayeen. You
cannot take it anymore this jihad. In everyday
life inside comes out in the graveyard. It drizzles,
the fake beliefs.
A bleak panaroma. Pansexual desire. Black
boulders, reddish cheeks,
moon falling on so many of stars!
I want a burntout sun.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ravaged
Cutting across the food wars
against adamant century
do you think we will become extinct in this
uncool climate?
The dying windows do not throw any light.
I fear in dark alone.
The earthworms are nibbling
at history of mankind.
wearing the ash of dead rivers.
Between the same words
god disappears
and what is left is the image of broken
violins.
Why don’t you set the birds free
and break the cage of knowledge?
The searing heat of arguments
will find the golden silence.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mutation
Like black birds
homing in twilight, to the tree
my thoughts make a perfect landing.
I lift the silence in sleep.
A flying snake enters
a pink room.
A bullet pierces the heart.
No acolytes, I will
catch myself the drifting smell
of eternal caress. Basking
in pain I pluck up my
trail in rubble of dreams.
You defy the likeness to god
become poor like an undershirt.
and walk straight.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Suffering Is Always Personal and Better Left Unshared and Unspoken
my words are waking me up
my hand is ready, the computer beeps
i like to write an email for you
how many times shall this happen?
this urge to let you know
this morning, i again blame myself
because i can't
i am thinking of the consequences
i know how painful is it to fall
how empty can the house become
how a night without a stars can make us cry
sometimes
how the sound of the river when you walk alone
gives you the sound of the cry of the pebbles
they break their silence
they scream
for truths still untold
to rules that cannot be broken
when you enter that empty room again
a ball of silence meets you
you sit beside it
it speaks to you
this is the first time that you have seen
its nature
it is dressed with lips
and when they begin to open to about to speak to you
you close your hands
turning them into fists
and you hit your chest
and the ball of silence moves away from you
it is respect for pain
when silence pretends again that it is just a ball
and that it can go away
for men suffer all alone
on unsaid proportion
with that ability to embrace no
description
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Strange
All night November,
I was searching the vulnerable
lips after loosing you.
Now fingerless hands
were moving the sun-dial
away from light.
The shroud was heavy,
I would not breathe.
Give me a blue moon before dawn.
You cannot engage in
sudden withdrawl. I will
come back for a kiss.
The paper that leaves a wound,
I will not sign for the bread.
My hands had stopped trembling.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sanity
Being alone,
writing poetry
to meet the infinity
on paper.
The words will not come
to me. I am trying
to catch the moment.
One by one-
I light the candles,
watching you slithering.
A transient truce
with my hands.
Collecting the broken
light years. Enter
into the eyes. O river. The hunger
to trap you is increasing.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Against The Times
Lipped-wet,
Counterfeits.
Fakes neither audible
nor visible.
The moment dies
in our hands.
It was a non-
happening.
Silence booms
destroying the palace,
of dreams. I should have
become the scissors.
This poem is not charitable
gnawing at the underlip
of an orphaned
moon.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What Has To Stay
Like I want to erase the fear
before I light a remote fire
in the blue veins.
Actually this was the crisis of self pride
in manic depression
seeking the anonymity of toes
tracing the footpath.
Becoming a paper-boat
in the winds of flesh and fancies
on the choppy sea of death.
No spinal pain for candles
to burn in courtyard
of sunken faith.
Red grapes in a tiny bowl
leap to lips of sun
for sons and daughters. Ajmer, INDIA
SATISH VERMA
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Breathing Dust
Do not stoke the desires tonight,
my moon is away on the cusp of doubts.
Count you must the needles in heart, of
ifs and buts? A fragile truce was anathema
to me. The nagging day lies ahead –
of my failing gifts. Living was a whispering
silence, no secrets had a spite for you.
A fine drizzle of thoughts fills the lungs,
mind cries for the space to arrange
the corpses of dreams.
The uncertainties take a heavy toll.
A new voice precedes a wet moon,
the sun was rising late today, living apart.
SATISH VERMA
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Rosy Dream
This is for you,
Did pencils ever write
unwritten paper
empty blank
broken moment
unsaid poems and little words of fear
This morning of our affection
we spill our emotions
through the glass of wine
of ordinary hot words....
and walk through the shore of sand
sea shore is now empty....
a rosy garden
where roses fall silent
at the gaze of the moon,
where the night falls in a rosy faint, and snow
like a' ruby 'drops....
In the morning of our belief
in the faces of stars
like a kiss of words
we rely upon,
the streets remain empty
and our watches break again...
our skies sing
in a painful breeze
we miss our little song
Did paint ever portray
unspoilt canvas
empty hands
idle colours
rest
In the morning of singing song,
whistling
birds.....
poem by Thampi KEE
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fallen, Empty, And Broken
fallen soldier
fallen sky
fallen angel
from on high
fallen heartache
fallen soul
fallen man
losing control
empty bed
empty arms
empty dreams
empty heart
empty wallet
empty hands
cant take nothin'
from an empty man
broken promises
broken vows
broken spirit
wont allow
broken fences
broken lives
broken tomorrows
broken nights
fallen, empty, and broken
every road is the same
bent, bruised, and shaken
still numb from the pain
now you dont answer
when i call out your name
fallen, empty, and broken
walking in the rain...
fallen, empty, and broken...
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Cuddling
between unequals
to and fro
beastly joy of horror
you want to press the trigger,
timebomb, your laughter,
and sneaky mind
restless syndrome of legs
you cannot stand on tiptoes
to review the fall
from the clouds
the moon overshot
the endless night
sun rises gently
on the window
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ageism
a pervasive bareness
walks like an honest lie
on the road to truth the bone white marble
god oversees the planet green’s woes
a climate change of heart its manipulations
its intrigues
something remains unsaid when i look back
i think again before i disappear between
bread and god whosover is stronger
than me i remained unchained distrusting
the rules laid down by hoaxes now i
am not me
i am not a god i am not a thought only
innocence of an unopened bud.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Presence
The hawk was landing.
Squinting at the urgent need
of slaughter and hope –
among the frightened hunger
of truth, of running feet
in the tall grass.
A world apart in
seeking the reality of
dying for earthly love.
I was not sure of
the manifesto of bricks and
stones falling on evergreen kisses.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Roots
It was a beautiful day
after the storm.
Fever was rising in branches.
Severed moons on road
started listening to explosive-laden
snow.
I went for the jugular.
Why poisoned goats were set free
for the cougars?
Existence was a positive sum,
not the square root of negative numbers.
One poppy head went for the primary.
A hybrid of reality and dreams
I was trying to find my ancestral home
in the epics of wars.
When a day ends, I open the fires
for the night. Time has come
to become blind.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!