Satish Verma Poems

Nothing-ness fills me
again. Once visiting a funeral
home, a child asked me,
why do the people die?
...

The nephrite syndrome.
I will not change the―
calculus, to find the truth
of the flesh.
...

After tasting the homemade
poison, the walls,
start moving.
The poppies are in bloom.
...

Hiding from each other
your prosperity.
I wanted to remain a fakir.
...

A desire spews the rocks.
Between two moments
lies my body.
...

There was a sharp rise
of indecent things. On the
rocks you left my name
without flowers.
...

The upbeat moon
becomes dazed, when you
start, the dance of death.
...

Like a wax moth, me―
sensing your footsteps
from a mile.
...

The pungent smell of dry
smoldering leaves, greet you
when you cross the road.
...

Time entombed, a negative
film, showing the
white bones of
a black moon.
...