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


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

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― 

But Nothing

Satish Verma

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?

This Cosmos

Satish Verma

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.

Startling Likeness

Satish Verma

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

There was obsession, to wash your 
hands again and again. 
They swing wildly. 

The moods. 
Betel leaves, and bad grammar. 
Charity untainted. 

Divided walls. 
A street breaks the steps. 
Nails scratching the rosary. 

The stranded words, 
will not sit on the wide screen. 
The damp soil becomes dark. 

No gift was needed― 
unmaking the wasp's nest. 
I bend down to light the lamp.

Evocative Images

Satish Verma

A single line, 
undefined, hangs 
to make your life vulnerable. 

The drifting starts. 
You fumble for the right― 

to convey the urgency 
of a moratorium. The 
dew on the grass, 

was not ready to 
accept the rainbow of 
false promises. 

Flat refusal comes 
from the deprived homes. 
The poverty has become a sin. 

The elegant procession 
of the king was throwing 
dust in our eyes.

Whirling Dervish

Satish Verma

In being and unbeing 
I come to you today― 
in unconscious state. 
Excessively leaning on 
cause, it is not heart― 
not brain. Just a beat. 
Evening is settling 
down. Time flew past. Birds 
going home. A lone moon 
will rise. 
Underground thoughts start― 
stunning the secrets. 
You open the lost book. 
In war go the alphabet. 
Questions arise. After all― 
who was me. 
The awakening begins.