Satish Verma Poems

You are waiting
amid fears. The fretting
does not end.
...

The dancing paper,
humilates the pen.
A stunning defeat for morality.
...

A severed hand, after
the blast, working on a script
writes about the
musicality of blood.
...

Overlooks the juvenility.
The shrinking genitals.
It was the militancy.
The freedom, brought
...

Downy mildew,
blinks. The sun
will not come back
to rein in its own might.
...

Uncannily sanguine,
wounded by biting gnats―
you return home.
...

This September. It is
going to be very quiet.

I am trying to caress
...

Ceaselessly,
the September moon
was sending poems
in quick succession.
...

Under a sickle moon,
the effect was colossal.
The mute words
were floating like vespae.
...

Lesser evil of a god
will preside over
the verdict. There was
a sexual assault
...