Satish Verma Poems
|4201.||The Final Retreat||12/3/2016|
|4202.||………….. Afraid Of Whom?||10/15/2007|
|4203.||…… Distant Shores||10/3/2007|
|4204.||Marking The Graves||12/29/2016|
|4206.||‘crossing The Bar' Once Again...||5/25/2008|
|4207.||A Family Dust||12/23/2009|
|4208.||A Sunny Wait...||5/9/2008|
|4210.||* The Dead Tiger||7/24/2009|
Comments about Satish Verma
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.
He was not ready
for a stash of negligees
put up by moon, on the trees.
A hanging valley drops the pretense
meets the river on the way
for a rendezvous.
Nymphs are flying randomly