Satish Verma Poems
|3521.||You Will Not Create Death||12/27/2012|
|3522.||Your Dress Code||6/27/2016|
|3523.||Your Half-Open Eyes||7/10/2015|
|3525.||Your Tresses Of Night Shade||3/1/2017|
|3527.||Your Waking Head||11/19/2008|
|3533.||बाहर आते हुए||9/1/2012|
Turns me on
I will write a poem.
Delirious moon had
picked me up from under the skin.
The safety pin was broken,
now a crowd will disrobe me.
Everytime when my pain makes you cry
oranges are not meant for the sale.
A collegium will stich up the wound.
Once upon a caste the country will go.
• On reading Orange Crush of Simone Muench.
The template had the fault,
I was buried alive.
Brick by brick they erected the cell
I could see only the reflection
of a moon at night
in my glass of water.
During the day sun peeped through the cracks,