23 February, 2017


You open me up
like an envelope without
a knife. No blood spills.

Like arriving from Auschwitz,
you embrace all my skins,
my incompleteness.

I would know, you
are coming down from the
attic to meet the unknown stranger.

Goosefoots. You are
crawling, hugging the remorse―
a clear submission anonymously.

Wrapped up, I give
you my heart, still throbbing
without the rib cage. The
night brings the red moon.

Satish Verma

Different Views

On the canvas,
I was drawing only the feet―
in run.
No heads, no torsi.

Was it a dark vision,
when you found the inert bodies,
crowding the summit?

Primates had already devised
the sponge, to gather up
the answers.

Geraniums become blind―
after their involvement,
in sorcery.

Making an inventory of
fugitives, no body was left at
home, when fire broke out.

Satish Verma

22 February, 2017

Small Thoughts

Ah, it was not a diamond
ring. In your palm was sitting
a god, watching you disintegrate.

Your hands, tell the
agony of lifting darkness, when
the full moon was rising.

The author speaks.
Not the ink, about the nomadic words
which have come to bleed on paper.

Tortured leaves of―
autumn are gathering to celebrate,
this side of the fall.

Like attaining the liberation
of sea urchins, reaching
the table to sip water.

There was no saliva.

Satish Verma

A Window Burns

Mind-set of fractured
faith, falters.
Now you want to ignore the god.

The bald cypress
hides the buttress roots.
Eagle was flying very low.

The clouds speak
in favor of sky. You cannot
heal the sun's wounds.

Flames are mine.
You burn the poppies to
float the arrogance.

Half burnt-out letters
of a lover, make a glory
of withdrawal of summer.

Satish Verma

21 February, 2017

Going Blind

Seething with agony.
the creatures were asking for
human rights.

Tracing the spiritual odyssey.
You have landed in a
volcano pit, looking for
the first autumn.

Smudgeless you walk in a
coal mine. It plunks. There
were spots in the sun. Bragging
was coming to the fore.

I am closing the book, not
to read again the drooling
script. Ages were harvesting
the tunnels.

Satish Verma


Consensual chemistry―
you were entwined with
a dervish.

Banana grove. A breather
for upside downs. Moons falling
from the sky.

A body sails.

You start wooing, clean
and genteel autumn―
for undisputed courtesy.

The fear of bliss. You
have a death wish. Empty chair.
You will not come back.

I think this is poetry.

Satish Verma

20 February, 2017

Moody Effect

When you were you,
me picked up the words-
you did't say.
You stir up a verse,

incendiary enough-
to start the chakras of sorrow.

Why to believe in
reincarnation, when carnations
in your eyes won't die.

A bloodbath for
believing in nothingness-
of innocence in the folds of time.

The seeds were in mode
of dispersal, of hate
and insults.The crowds were thinning.

A strange thing was going to happen.
Dark sky would descend
randomly to capture the speed.

Satish Verma