Satish Verma Poems

It was time to
modify the heritage―
in a delicate bid to
aid the dying.
...

The collective
scream of peacocks,
brings the night horror.
...

Unstitch my memories,
I have come home,

My bag was full of worries.
...

This age of depression―
Do you hear―
the unheard sounds?
...

When the time faults, it
becomes metaphysical for me―
to write a poem in flesh and blood.
...

The interstellar
reticence, becomes the
muse of a storm.
...

After finding the pulse,
you become a man-eater.
Decide to play a volcano―
to solve the mystery
...

Do not measure zany,
yourself. When did you become
your pedagogue?
...

Centrality suffers.
A poem
cries.
...

And my love, when do we talk
of wilderness
and daisy blooms?
...