Satish Verma Poems

It was inheritance
of age
before the mirrors
for the language of windows.
...

In the dust storm
a discarded moon
sat in my lap.
...

Driving green fire
out of melodies.
It was not make-believe
not mannerism
...

You toppled the invisible
burning the unburied buttons
joining the history of names.
...

Among the crania, clouds allowed
a variation of sky. The hominids
stood up and started a stride, with
long steps towards noxious future.
...

The hurt begins to move
and meets in a funeral procession.

For aging fireworks this was the last chance,
...

I was not indifferent to graffiti
but oracle was telling a different story
of embellished arms race
about the mathematics of terror.
...

Rain of victims.
Crossing a parched field
a summer moon was laughing
like a naked lie.
...

A hidden self portrait
in a tar pit
I do not want to explore further.
...

The particulate allegories
were tossed around.
The wheels had refused
to exit.
...