Satish Verma Poems

A moon interrupted;
riles the social class.
A native sense comes of age.
...

Sexism was chasing a
gibbous moon whole night.
I ask the virtuous dark,
will you be a hangman?
...

When hunger becomes
a little god. You start waiting
for a miracle to happen.
Like a grandfather clock, you
...

The heritage
went for a sale. A tree
stands denuded, after
a nudie.
...

Sky drank the moon
when night was cool.

A lone tree on roadside
...

The guile demands
some apology,
from raw stings.
...

For ethnicity
draped in gasoline
you burn the sky.
...

I don’t fake the pain
pain was me.
A grafted rose opens up along the road rage.
...

A heap of voices hails you, when you stop
in the tract.
The silence migrates to new depths
where silhouettes are created,
...

Why did not you
cross the black river
and remained innocent?
Unhealed, failed inside, broken and honest?
...