Satish Verma Poems

The thirst will know,
the river was there.
To lie on the grass was ultimate.
...

Trying to bring the change
with bleeding silver.

As it is/was, this world.
...

It was a free fall.
A plot seems to thicken.
I would never know.
...

Art of dying
comes, after
you listen to the siren song.
...

Unshackled, the pallor moon
was lying still, in a white―
shroud of clouds, only face
visible, staring―
...

I was not afraid of the clock, ticking,
dividing your attention. A guarded
withdrawl of the statement, had
brought a comic relief to the distraught
...

Weep every don.
All the translations were fake.

The yellow peaks do not burn the
...

When saline drowns the lips,
my words tremble.

Almost I stumble upon
...

Collecting the dirt,
a speechless drama unfolds.

Now you can hear the―
...

Not a dog day―
after snapping. In
fatigues, you get a parole
to start sowing sunflowers.
...