24 April, 2018

In Black Lights

The day wears me out,
when I don't think
of you, and a poem was not written.

A quasi-sin to forget,
connecting with past to find
the solution of gated exits.

Soon you will enter,
the mythological world
and I would feel a grim threat.

I filtered light plays
a game with me, like a sword
of moon slicing the darkness to
spit out the stars.

The terror holds
you tightly, will not let you go
back to drown your baby thoughts.

And when the explosion
takes place, only the muse will survive
to tell the tale of unique love.

Satish Verma

All Prophets Fall Down

There were some ashes
in your eyes, when
you kissed a flame with

A golden phoenix
swoops down to snatch away
your signature.

Henceforth the sky will
wear the skullcap of moon,
before touching the blue lake
of silent eyes.

Why do we fight
for our insignias? The saber
dance must continue in
the morning of our doom.

The phantoms come again.
Why you were in dilemma―
to surrender or not?

After all you were my gems.

Satish Verma

22 April, 2018

An Electric Affair

The calling deepens at
night, when it is pitch-dark
and I go in abyss.

Unknowable my angst,
keeps me restless to blunt my
hyperaesthesia, which wants to
drink moonlight.

Clumsy with my pen,
I write and rewrite a message
which will not reach you.

You have the same faith,
as that of the sleeping bo tree for the
god of void and blankness.

Tell me, what is a classical
fall of animated suspension.
You leapfrog for the bird catchers.

I plead guilty.

Satish Verma


Breaking the silence
you speak in velvety tone.
The hunter has been hunted.

I return your pride
in the hands of monolithic world.
There were other globes
beyond the sun, past
the vocabulary.

When thoughts become a
song, peace comes back and you
can see the distance
between the stars.

Evading the nuances, white
stones manipulate the commerce
of truth. I remain empty handed
to understand the meaning
of shade.

I will bring a canvas
for you. We will paint together a
serene lake!

Satish Verma

21 April, 2018

Inventory Of Missed Beats

Under a perfect moon. I
missed you at dawn in,
rain dance, when stars
were going to hide.

Beyond midnight, you
were not supposed to stay
in my dreams.

Oh, was it the time
to drink from the falling
dew? Can I blend the nature
with your eyes?

The days were trecherous.
You were not going
to curve like a rainbow.
It was a good old art of swaying.

When you run short of
appropriate words to describe
the dilemma, you start
counting the folds in the currain.

Satish Verma

Unbitten By Time

After going back in my
frame, I let the dark set in,
to wait for your moon.

No more, or less, you had
plucked my image to wear it. There was
no litany, no contrast.

And a prayer makes
the cherry tree bloom, and
start shedding like my poems.

It can save us, at the
foot of mountain, when rains
come, and we are climbing.

The shadows will meet at
horizon, drowning in water
of moon― to morph into a vault.

The creativity had been at the best.

Satish Verma

20 April, 2018

Talking Through Veils

You were born with
a golden tongue.
When I shut my eyes,
I hear a Beethoven.

In a back vision,
the future tricks. You
become older to me.

Author of beauty, will write
a new chapter, revising the old
script― when ink is scarce in soft tears.

Can you mix the color of doomsday
with a rising moon, sitting
on a blind eagle?

There was always
a tussle between fire and sea.
When the ship was burning, brine
dried up.

Where now, we will grow
out lilies, if sky doesn't cry.

Satish Verma