Satish Verma Poems

They were counting the bullets and bodies.
The severed limbs were twitching. Sometimes to go back
to their owners,
but the faceless torso selects a bush to hide the remains.
...

Eight kisses of death and I am alive
My chest is still bleeding
Come brother, come,
stitch my wounds.
...

He was very thin, half naked, one arm
broken, glasses cracked.
Early morning an owlet will land over its head
And give a long hoot.
...

I was watching a flight of swans
in a neat row over the horizon.

You were counting the pebbles on the beach.
...

Give me something to chew,
a savage numbness
is engulfing my brain.
Water level was rising
...

Winter has stopped indulging.
Brown body of summer
longs for the full lips of moon.
I become saddened
...

It was the hiatus
that underlying silence
of which I was hearing the voices.
...

That intense pleasure at the height of negation
haunts me
from the sense of weightlessness.
In praise of complaints I sacrifice my anger.
...

Space has all the silent approval,
truth will not multiply.

Another funeral takes place
...

A candid confession from you,
when your identity started protruding
from innocent rage.
...