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

Negation Creates

Satish Verma

I was not there
when omentum was incinerated.
No unparing was called for
digging your own grave.

In eerie silence, I
start collecting the shells
of forlorn pearls.

It would be a miracle
if I can read the invisible.
I can become a killer when you
are not there.

The mute girl will not―
give her lips.
Only eyes. I must lift my
poem from there.

The Hamlet's dilemma. You
will, will not taste the

Where The Doors Have Gone

Satish Verma

You were afraid of,
unknown, walls pulled down―
you stand in bones.

The surrounding hills―
give a call. Come for the sacrifice
for your transparent limbs.

Unsung, unpraised,
moon will rise tn the woods―
to bring out the victims of rage.

No identification was
needed to wash the bodies.
After death, there was no religion.

Now prayers must begin
to save the weeping earth.
Sky will drop the sun.

How Precious You Were

Satish Verma

I cannot say adieu to you.
Like an implant―
you will go with my bones.

Truth was always underlined―
with lies. Now lead was
floating in my blood.

No one will read the
hidden map. Pink claustrophobia,
with clenched teeth.

I will bring the blue
death in September, when
there would be no shade.

The human fires burn,
ablaze in verses. No tears
no masks. You move in circle
with no center.


Satish Verma

Under deadly nightshade
we met for the first time,
to watch each other's brilliance―
and rip away.

The scars had become our
moons. We sailed through―
the ocean of grief.

When we gather in dark
there was no choice―
between I am, and you are.

You were afraid to confront―
not accepting what your skin feels
and mind rejects.

The soul searching begins
to become non-conformist,
in green night―
beautiful night.


Satish Verma

It was restless mind
and I ask you something.

The grammar.
When something big―
happens, I find an excuse
to say small things.

O invisible!
how do I resolve the puzzles
of life. It had become a big
traumatic event.

The rain―
of inflected words
backed up by silence, keeps
me running―
to find the import.

Tell me―
how do I remember you.

Dew Drops

Satish Verma

Washed-up your
facial nuance, like jellyfish
at abandoned shore.

I was collecting shells
today, to write a poem for
your brown irises.

Pink chrysanthemums
will not say anything, but were dying
when you were away..

In rains you take a
figure, like a blue black bird
ready to fly away.

Jumping From The Surface Of Water

Satish Verma

You were not a god―
in panic, seeking an asylum
with two little hands
holding a golden book.

There was a potential
threat of complete annihilation
from the foul writing on the walls
with spurious titles.

A political blitzkrieg
takes place in glass dome,
drawing out bad blood,
from healthy limbs.

Where would you go, now
in dark? Fleeing from the violence
of men, being migrant without
a temple at the end of the earth.

On Birthday

Satish Verma

A rose on your name shines,
like a mural painting.
You had wanted
a deathless dying.

Does it happen to everyone?

Living on water,
still abrasive?

When you walked on the nails,
was it corrosive, like
acid on face?

I am visiting the death room
to start a vigil, like
a hummingbird gone mute.

And the lovebirds will show
no more the open affections.

The moon will heal the poem.
Hearth will keep on throwing
the crackling blaze.

Unlike Anybody

Satish Verma

In your painting the
silence of death was very loud.
I will call a poem.

Hold it down, your horse
power. Floodgates will open to
let out ugly ducklings.

In moonlight― I may
sit on the sand dune to listen,
the silent, inner voice.

Lines on your forehead
are getting deeper. May I
call the nightingale?