Satish Verma Poems

It is pouring.
You can feel, smell and touch
the rain. A river of qualms―
starts swelling. Watercress―
...

The finger and a ring―
a story of bonhomie;
if you live precariously.
...

After the apocalypse,
the fiefdoms were growing―
buttercups― with golden flowers,
cupshaped.
...

First listen to your heart.
No poetry will walk tonight―
without fear.
...

Tell me,
how would you die
when the call comes?
...

Like a starfish― you are
not a star, always opening
the shells― with your tube fest
to find the pearls.
...

Do you need a divine witness―
if I abdicate a claim
on you, saluting the dark?
...

Under surveillance, the vegetable―
lives on ventilator.
All doors were shut― for the
dark― to remain inside.
...

Living,
in the wounds,
like a gas dragged into
the black hole.
...

A hate apart, living in embraces,
one night― you find the
bridge collapsed― in the
forest of skins.
...