# #betrayal #life #forgiveness #suffering #sadness #pain #mistakes #madness #let me be

Penultimate

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Satish Verma

Sundown
body becomes blue.
You were stitching
opals in eyes.

How do I find
you, when you would not
come in twilight?

The flight of a swan
takes a turn to cross
the river of flames.
Would you be a witness?

For the sake of death
don't die, amidst the hymns
of pain in dark shadowing life.

I know, I will
suffer in sunlight, when
the moon squeezes the blood.

Human Gifts

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Moon was climbing
down the stairs for the
soul searching.

Red, yellow, blue.
Someone has to die
for the rainbow.

You pretend to be
innocent, sitting outside
your home. Time was up.

The feeling persists.
Something has left behind
to knit the two torn threads.

The future karma
still claims the oldest
hymns of dark.

I am not going anywhere.

Questioning You

Folder: 
Satish Verma

To understand the body,
smeared with ash,
you will need wisdom.

Why did you want to―
translate the melodrama
of fingers, when hands were folded?

The silent scream
cleaves the moon,
and thousand stars
come to console you.

No compliments
were given to sun.

Will you tattoo my
name on your chest?
A caged cuckoo
wants to become free.

Turns In Path

Folder: 
Satish Verma

When sun was
preparing to die, why
did you ask for the
soft moons― crimson red?

Searching an
unmarked shrine of
an unsung hermit.
Why people come and go?

You would not catch
the mockingbird, trying
to be shocking, to reach
you, for a melodious song.

You just liked
a god, who had come
as a stream of light
from a distant star.

Who Was Blessed

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Do trees quiver
in dark at night,
exploring their original skins
under the starlight?

Why do they talk
when we sleep?
Living is very cheap
and dying was expensive.

Would you mind
to buy death, letter by
letter in understanding
the market?

The Sunday moon was
always beautiful. You stay
on terrace to say goodbye
before closing the book.

There was eternal pain,
outside and inside.

Sphinx Was Watching

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Read me if you
care. I am going to
rip off the lid of oven.

How many faces
you will wear, when it is
raining silver and gold?

It sounds like wrought
bones. I find myself suspended
in air, like humming bird,
not like drone.

It was a mutual
suicide of opioid love. It
does not belong to me. the
divested home of words.

The pink wounds
on the wall of memory.
Not me, not you.

Celebrating Blood Signed Will

Was there any
time space to recuperate
in self-esteem?

How can you define
hunger, when there was
no food for thoughts?

Who will name
the icon to regerminate
the lost dreams.

You tried to catch
the flames without burning
your hands.

Self-immolation
was animation of a prodigal
sun giving away light.

The ailing justice
cannot deliver the mercy
to wounded humanity.

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Don't Forget

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Not sensual.
Searching you in daffodils,
like four-leaf clover.

This dysfunctional life,
ought to have given me once,
a piece of moon.

Crammed skull, sometime
gives an abrupt
pause. I become a stone.

Walls separated us.
I would not cross the
river of inferno.

Can we laugh
together, before we peel
the oranges to make
our eyes blink?

Stranger In A Fix

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Becoming was
eggs walk. You were
wearing human heart.

When you shed
the qualms, poems fly
out of the nest.

This was an
absurd math. Did you
reach the mount of god?

As it happens,
you understand it very late.
There was fear of living ever.

Will it come out?
The meaning? From in-house
search of truth.

Do you believe, groping
will find the missing book?