08 December, 2016

See My Hands

Overreaching for chemical signs
and word for word,
you want to move on-
without parents.

This was only a poetic
idea, that no weapon will
be used for execution.

Not offering an apology,
we were dissecting the ethics
of violence and war.

A chilling reminder, you are
going to starve the definitions.
But no clarity was visible.

I am becoming bones
and taut nerves.Only eyes
were looking ahead of the tempest.

Roofs were melting.
You want to hit the sky.

Satish Verma


the sexuality
of clock.

Time moves
the hands, of past,
the present.

The future
belongs to no one.
This poem, cosmos.

Satish Verma

07 December, 2016


A near cult glows/ on faces―
for harvesting peace,
saluting each other, without flame.

I have come so far
though you did not want the winds to move.

A new theme was
developing. The first wicket has fallen.
The collective suicide
will follow.

Invoking the sun, you stay in shadows,
without qualms to hear
the swish of swords.

The phenomenalist,
strides confidingly to read your mind.
Heart cries―

Satish Verma

But Nothing

No it will not work.
The amalgam of arrival
and departure.
Debunking the theme
of reincarnation, you enter into the body of a poem.

Crowned and faded out,
all the icons were diminishing
in stature.A winter bath
tries to hold the halo-
for sometime, and then disappears
in obscurity.

Where the things go wrong
and connectivity snaps?
The tall people, yes very tall,
crumble under the weight of anonymity.
When you climbed down from
the pedestal, light was dim.

Did you ever receive a blast in face?

Satish Verma

06 December, 2016

This Cosmos

The tall, dense, tree of life
divides the culture, ages.
Will witness―
the gorgeous, ruinous and
hideous days.

How would I claim
the legacy of a deaf and dumb

The fragile bones of the
earth, break.
Blackberries burn under
the eyes.

The hidden herons
fall involuntarily, when you
trim the tree for a
new moon.

Satish Verma


Xanax in the blood
Empty chairs.
Small birds, hopping from here
to there. Waiting for the guests.

Evening sits on the
dirt road.
We look together at the
cracked moon.

The grace of becoming
gray, sweeping the floor
of life. You will wear a different
smile everyday.

The house follows you
wherever you go.Saturn or Mars
will not cast a spell of malfeasance.

Satish Verma

05 December, 2016

Startling Likeness

Yes it is descriptive only,
the unbearable pain of denudation,
like blue heartache.

Touching the extremes, you
become desperate to―
reach the first letter.

The word will form later.
The virtue of knowing―
the unknown was a punishment,
you cannot untie the knots.

You must know the trick of―
the trade. How to come back
alive after touching the skin
of a viper?

No celebration to mark―
the anniversary of the assassin.
Life itself takes the award.

Satish Verma