Satish Verma Poems

non compos mentis
my monologue,
non-believer will say, it was
insult of salt,
...

Ahead of pain, we did not cry;
intimating of dreams, crowded;
stranded on issues, reaching nowhere.
...

With gray wolves around,
he put the gun on the chin
and pulled the trigger.
...

You have nibbled and eaten raw
scratching by nails
talking of a pink rose syndrome
under the corona of soft spikes.
...

Looking around for a loop of light,
a captive throws out his
trove of litter and ask for a
right to be killed.
...

The buff flaunts his elements
in a dissenting voice.
Don’t go into the lake.
There were no survivors.
...

Graveyard of stillbirths.
I am walking on severed legs.
...

Planet earth,
they have stopped moving with me like clouds,
like trees.
Sap frozen, inertia overtaking
...

Spare me a moment.
Can you anticipate the innocence
of tomorrow?
...

Do not maneuver the
golden night.
Moon will rise in
defiance of dew.
...