Satish Verma Poems

Debt laden
I turn the ashes
where you left the footmarks.
...

Walking in mental
fog, you become
a swaying tree.
...

Who calls my name
when I am absent
from the stage?
...

To read a map―
listening to your inner voice, for
changing the green color
of eyes.
...

The black thread
tied on your wrist was
meant to end the siege.
...

Being outsider,
you will not be excused.

Deluded perfectly.
...

Blessed dying
like a fading moon―
with no watermark.
...

The white ribbon
gives you an angle.
Moon will rise from that point.
...

You are putting
stones in empty coffin.
It may harbor the ―
methane after the tribal savagery.
...

Time was short
and I was in hurry.

In Prophet of grief―
...