Satish Verma Poems

The one happening;
which never happned.
A slice of mock invasion on
inner sanctum to find your own name.
...

You did not want to play―
into the strength,
of the other.
...

It is the truth which
never was. After many
deaths I will come to you
to repeal my verses.
...

Ready to pounce on
a scarecrow.
The ants were hungry.
...

It was the presence.
Somewhere magnolias
were in bloom.
...

The time will not heal. The
aging looks. Erotica. Each
scream ends in a dry river.
Who had the right to deliver
...

Who was the dancer of death?
You went for the kill,
and not for the killer.
...

A machine pain,
scripts the name secretly,
intones the verdict.
...

Put me through the
french knots. I am
under the gaze of
a jilted lover.
...

Between the soft glow of
twilight and moon, it was
cold. For a faithful swan.
...