Satish Verma Poems

Point-blank you
kill the pigeons in cold
blood. Death stalks.

In broad daylight
...

The sellout of an identity
was complete.
You were standing on your
blood.
...

The dawn, arrives.
Like fawn, under window.
Get a silk rope.
...

The thrill of watching,
descent of reddened sun.
flustered moon!
...

I am not stopping by.
Day was crumbling
in flares of core issues.

I have set my thoughts
...

Let the commerce begin
in moral crimes.
You had been selling the death, daily.
...

Along the lane
towards Diddling
you stopped

and looked
...

Digging the fossil
foot. Satisfied less
I want my old coin.
...

Will you read
the snow on the grass knitting
the big eyebrows
...

After being robbed
you want to hide your
poverty, like sex.
Someone is going to flaunt
...