Satish Verma Poems

The system aborts.
(Multiple organs failure)
A deviant art
of dying pompously.
...

Unable to conceive.
The theme had not arrived─
near the mouth.
It was agonizingly close,
...

A rose.
Atonement for-
all the thorns.
...

An empty chair in a
muffled day, starts
a self-import and
falters on steps.
...

Time. Marches on;
tasting the blood of hikers,
who would not─
reach the summit.
...

In the waning moon
you were talking
of fathoms.
...

Incubation was not
complete. The thirst of
thoughts will find a
convoluted shell─
...

The intrigues, the twists
unravel the woven threads
of the mystery. Traumatized
and dazed, I play─
...

What was the
secret of the path?
A tree was climbing on a hill.
...

Such were the times.
You wanted to become sane
after losing the mind.
...