Satish Verma Poems

Eyes go wet.
A tale of two halves in lieu of
two murders, like reading Pablo Neruda.
...

You will be in a poem.
Beheaded. I am not yet born.The
sinister hand refuses to pull me out.
...

It was not easy to recall,
the love in truancy. Needs
extra gene. I would wake up in blue
darkness for an aubade.
...

I try to think,
not to think of you;
cede hope to candor.
...

O stark avenger,
Time.
I will come on your lapses,
when every moment,
...

Some question?
It always haunted me.
In combat posture,
why would I become a child?
...

You cast doubt,
on the definition.
Gods play with words,
like winged fruits,
...

When God kings come―
down stealthly,
it is your waking time.
...

The space between the
two ends, was becoming
a game of thorns.
...

Take off the glasses and
look at it closely, the infant
universe of the ―
receding age.
...